


The Hidden Revolutionary

by OllieOliveOboelo22



Category: George Washington (TV 1984), Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: George Washington is a Dad, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieOliveOboelo22/pseuds/OllieOliveOboelo22
Summary: George Washington's daughter, Gwendolyn, was quite different from other women. Attending college, not focusing on marriage, and, most notably, running away to join the Revolution. How will her presence alter the course of the Cuple ring and the Revolution itself? Eventual BenxO/CThe beginning of the story is a bit slow but it picks up after a few chapters.I don't own AMC's Turn: Washington's Spies.This work is published on Wattpad (OllieOliveOboelo22) and on Fanfiction (gcallen22).
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Benjamin Tallmadge/Original Female Character(s), George Washington/Martha Washington
Comments: 17
Kudos: 29





	1. A Revolutionary is Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was re-written on July 1, 2020.

_Mount Vernon, February 22, 1760_

George Washington always wished for a child. Of course, he had Patsy and Jacky but none to call his own, that was until Martha told him she was with child. He ecstatically approached the small crib holding his newly born daughter. Holding her close, he gazed into her bright blue eyes. He smiled as her tiny hand grasped onto his shirt collar.

“Hello there little one,” he whispered, “I’m your papa.”

Glancing over he could see his wife, Martha, chuckle, “George, we still have to name her.”

“I want to give her a unique name,” he answered, “There’s too many Marys, Annes, Elizabeths, and Margarets.”

“Something from the classics then, perhaps Persephone or Minerva” Martha suggested.

“No, something more English,” he smiled remembering his days as a British officer.

“What about Guinevere,” she suggested.

Looking back to his daughter, he thought about the name. He loved calling her Gwen but Guinevere was too formal. Turning back to his wife he answered, “Gwendolyn. Her name is Gwendolyn Cate.”

“And where did Cate come from?” she questioned.

“I can already tell she will be a strong spirited woman,” he replied. 

* * *

_Mount Vernon, May 1763_

George Washington was in his study reading one of Shakespeare’s classics when his three-year-old daughter walked in. Not noticing her quiet entrance, he slightly jumped when she called for him.

“Gwen, what are you doing awake at this hour,” glancing at the clock in his study. It was nearly 10:30 at night.

“I couldn’t sleep, Papa.” She then had a sly grin as she asked, “what are you doing up so late.”

George couldn’t hold back his laughter at his daughter’s response. Over the past few months, she had developed a quick-witted and cunning personality. Most would argue a young girl should never speak like that, but he could never bring himself to reprimand her. He could tell it wasn’t out of disrespect but it was simply a part of her personality. Of course, he would attempt to reign back some of it as she grew up, he would never want to see her in trouble. He loved his daughter and wanted to give the world to her.

Snapping out of his thoughts he answered, “I am reading,” hoping his answer would satisfy her curiosity.

It didn’t for her next question was, “what are you reading?”

“The Taming of the Shrew,” looking back he knew another question was to follow.

“What is it about? Can you read it for me?”

Knowing he was defeated he picked her up and set her on his lap. “Ok,” he said, “your mother won’t be happy knowing I let you stay awake but I shall read it to you.”

Giggling, Gwen kissed her father's cheek as he continued. A few minutes later after some explanation, she interrupted him saying, “but why is he forcing Katherine to marry him. Doesn’t she get to say no! Why isn’t her papa listening to her! You wouldn’t do that to me, papa… would you?”

George’s heart melted at her last comment. It was at this moment he realized he would never force her to marry anyone. He wanted her to make her own decisions. After reading for nearly an hour he closed the book, seeing Gwen curled up. He smiled hearing her soft snores, reminiscing

* * *

The next morning Martha found her husband and daughter sleeping together in the chair. It pained her to disturb such a sweet moment but it was late in the morning and George had to go out and run the farm. Tapping her husband’s shoulder, he stirred before meeting his wife’s gaze. Everything from last night came back as he saw a somewhat disapproving look.

“Now what were you two up to,” she said as she picked up the sleeping child.

“Reading,” he said. He then saw the clock and jumped from his chair. “Oh dear the time, Martha I must be going but I need to speak with you later tonight.

After supper and putting Gwen to bed he approached his wife.

"Martha I want Gwen educated. I want her to be able to read, write, and learn anything she pleases. I don't see her being content with needlework"

Beaming Martha replied, "Of course, now you need to go to sleep. I can hardly imagine a wooden chair is comfortable."

Laughing, they both climbed into bed thinking about their daughter's future.

* * *

_Mount Vernon February 22, 1770._

It was George and Gwendolyn Washington’s birthday. The former turning 38 while the later finally reached the two-digit marker.

After the small celebration’s Gwen and Patsy went to go to play. Patsy, being 14 years old always looked out for her sister. Ever since Gwen was able to walk the two enjoyed running around the house and garden. However, three years ago Patsy’s condition prevented them from playing as much as they used to but it never stopped them. After her episodes, Gwen would often sit at Patsy’s bed where they would play with dolls together until she was well enough to walk again.

Jacky on the other hand slowly grew protective of his younger sister. Becoming lazier with schooling the 16-year-old was often found outside playing with Gwen when Patsy was ill. Against their mother’s wishes, he would teach her how to climb trees and tell her all about hunting and war.

Gwen and Patsy came back downstairs later in the afternoon with huge smiles plastered on their faces. Behind their backs, they revealed a card for their father wishing him a happy birthday. George scooped his two daughters into a hug kissing both of their heads.

“Thank you both,” he smiled then turning to Gwen, “but before we do anything else I have a surprise for you, Gwen.”

Taking her by the hand the two walked towards the stables. Soft white snow covered the ground giving an audible crunch sound each step they took. He then opened the door leading her inside to a pen in the far corner. Walking up to it he revealed a beautiful palomino mare.

“She’s all yours,” he said watching her growing smile. “I know you’ve been wanting to learn how to ride for some time so your mother and I decided that this coming spring I would begin teaching you.” His words were cut short by a tight hug. Looking down he saw his daughter hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!” she repeated.

“So, what will you name her?”

“Gemma!” the young girl exclaimed, “because she’s a gem”.

* * *

_Mount Vernon, Summer 1770_

Gwendolyn had been a quick study. In a few months, she was riding Gemma by herself, under her father’s supervision of course. Her education was well underway as well. Her tutor, Walter Magowan, had begun giving her advanced lessons a few days ago seeing the potential and thirst for knowledge in the young girl, unlike her half-brother. As she approached her father to help her dismount Gemma, she heard her mother scream for him. Quickly pulling her down from the saddle, her father handed the reins to his slave, Billy, before rushing towards the house. Gwen watched her father run while Billy took her to the stables knowing what was happening in the home.

“Billy, what’s happening,” Gwen asked before realization dawned on her. “It’s Patsy isn’t it.”

Billy gave her a small nod as he shut Gemma’s gate before saying, “Don’t worry Miss Gwen, I’m sure Miss Patsy will get well again.”

The two walked into the house, as they approached they heard shouts for Patsy to wake up. Not wasting any time Gwen picked up her skirt and ran as fast as she could towards the door. Throwing it open she saw her distraught papa picking up Patsy to take her to her room. Mrs. Washington threw her arms around her other daughter telling her that Patsy had another attack, but this one was more severe than any others the family had seen.

Over the summer all attention was directed to Patsy who had over 25 seizures for the rest of the season, sometimes having two a day. Gwen didn’t mind though, she never liked to be the center of attention and cared too deeply about her dear sister.

* * *

_Mount Vernon, April 10, 1772._

Jacky had done it again, sneaking out his twelve-year-old sister out of the house. The brother-sister duo laughed as they ran through the field towards the Potomac.

“I’ll race you to the shore,” he laughed as he took off.

“Hey,” Gwen cried, “No fair!” trying to keep up.

Reaching the river’s edge, the seventeen-year-old brother scanned the beach while waiting for Gwen to catch up.

“What took you so long?” he joked, picking up a stone.

“Very funny,” she huffed. “You’re bigger than me and can run faster.”

“Sorry sunshine,” he laughed, ruffling her hair.

Gwen playfully glared at her elder brother’s latest nickname for her. He constantly came up with new nicknames every few weeks, the last ones being Canary and Peaches. His explanation: this is yellow and your hair is yellow.

“Soooo, what are we doing?” she asked, moving the ruffled hair out of her face.

“This,” he said, skipping the stone across the water.

After finding a good amount of potential rocks, Jacky showed her how to hold it. “Now put your thumb here, and this finger here. And then you’ll throw it like this” he instructed, guiding her hands through the motions. “Make sure that the rock spins fast.”

Standing back up, Jacky backed away as Gwen attempted to skip the rock. It splashed, and sunk into the river, trying several more times with the same outcome, Gwen was getting a bit irritated. 

“Here,” said Jacky. “You’re throwing it too hard, you want to throw it like this.”

But his demonstration resulted in the same as Gwen’s. Gwen started laughing as Jacky scratched the back of his head, holding in his laughter.

“Yes, that was an extremely enlightening demonstration,” Gwen giggled with the tiniest bit of sarcasm in her voice.

“You know mother doesn’t like you talking like that,” he chided, watching his sister’s grin vanish. “But I don’t mind… sunshine,” he smirked, earning even more laughter from the younger sibling.

* * *

_Mount Vernon, June 19, 1773_

Thirteen-year-old Gwendolyn Washington had become an excellent horse rider. She was often found accompanying her father in the mornings when he went to survey the land. Her brother Jacky, who now went by Jack had gone to New York for college but his fiancé, Eleanor, was visiting Mount Vernon. Her schooling had progressed rapidly and she was beginning to think about trying to apply to a college. It was unheard of a woman attending college but Gwen was always one to try new things and her sister was quite supportive.

Ever since 1770, Patsy’s condition had grown worse and her parents did everything they could to help her. They went to multiple doctors and tried a variety of medicines but nothing seemed to work. Patsy had to stop schooling when her seizures became worse. Gwen knew Patsy wished she could ride horses and freely roam the estate but she had to remain close to someone for her health.

Walking toward Patsy’s room Gwen heard a thud and ran. Opening the door she saw Patsy violently thrashing on the ground and immediately yelled

“Mama, Papa! It’s Patsy!”

Not even a few seconds passed when she heard the heavy footsteps of her father running up the stairs. He ran past her and put Patsy’s head in his lap trying to soothe the young woman. Her mother ran in moments later and cried at the sight of her eldest daughter.

“Billy!” her father boomed, “Get the doctor.”

Gwen knew not what to do so she took her sister’s hand and did her best to comfort her. Then Patsy stopped moving. In all her years Gwen had never seen her father cry but tears streamed down his face as he placed his ear near her still sister’s head. Shakely he pulled away after hearing her draw no breath and brought the girl into his arms. Her mother let out a sickening sob as she soon realized. Her sister was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will be following TURN: Washington's Spies and then continue following the plot of Hamilton.
> 
> I will be doing a lot of research to ensure I make this story as historically accurate as possible (minus the existence of Gwen). This is also my first Fanfic so bear with me for a while, I’m only writing this now because of all the free time provided by COVID-19. I am in college classes so I apologize if updates slow down sometimes I also have ADHD and sometimes I forget I have a project going on. Another thing, I am an EXTREMELY self-critical writer and I constantly go back and rewrite the same sentence over and over. I’m trying to break this habit but it gets the best of me. Please leave feedback, it will help encourage me to keep writing if I know others are holding me accountable to finish. 


	2. The Revolution Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…. I originally wrote Lafayette and John Laurens into this chapter before I started doing all this research. I was fine with it at first when I learned otherwise, but then it kept bothering me. Like really bothering me so I went back and rewrote the next few chapters without them. It makes me sad that I have to get rid of some of the interactions, but I’ll just put them in the future. A lot of the new stuff that I added comes from the 1984 George Washington Miniseries. I did a lot of research about Mount Vernon, even did a virtual tour… ok, I admit it, I got sidetracked. But all in all, I liked it, anyway Gwen’s room is the ‘Blue Room’ if any of you are interested. Another note, mama will sound like mah-ma.
> 
> This story will start having more flashbacks, they will be in italics with the date the flashback occurred. The non-italicized text takes place in the present time of the characters unless it is specified otherwise.
> 
> This chapter was re-written on August 3, 2020. I apologize for how long it took, but know that I have been working on the story… just like the later half of it. It was all I could think about so I decided to get those ideas at least down to continue working on this.

_ Mount Vernon, April 5, 1775 _

Gwen woke up before dawn to get ready. Taking rides around the plantation with her father was her favorite part of the day. Even though she was now fifteen and was expected to perform more womanly tasks, Gwen still found time to ride. Since Patsy had died and Jacky had married, the house was emptier and quieter. But that didn’t stop Gwen from bringing life into the home. She had become fascinated with music after her mother began teaching her the harpsichord. For her 14th birthday, she had discovered the hautbois and fell in love with the sound. So, now being the only child at Mount Vernon, her parents fulfilled her request. Playing for over a year now she, like in any other subject, was a quick study and was learning pieces by Handel and Haydn. Whenever visitors came she and her mother would perform together, entertaining the guests.

Changing into her riding attire, she thought about how much had changed in the past two years. But both her parents relented knowing riding was one of the few things that helped Gwen cope with her sister’s sudden passing. They hoped it would be a phase and that Gwen would transition into becoming a proper young lady. But as expected Gwen, never followed the social normalities, seeing them unnecessary and restrictive. And being the pioneer she was, Gwen had decided she would take the steps to go to college, more specifically King’s college. Again her mother was skeptical of her daughter applying, but Gwen believed her mother just didn’t want her to leave home just yet. However, her father, her biggest supporter, stood by her because he wanted her to be happy. 

Smiling at the thoughts of her father, Gwen ran downstairs to begin the morning ride. To her surprise, her father was in his study reading a letter. She knocked politely on the door and he immediately looked up. 

“Is it time already?” he joked.

“Yes papa,” Gwen laughed. “What are you reading.”

“Nothing of importance,” he said, not wanting to alarm his daughter. She merely raised an eyebrow wanting to know more. “It’s a letter from Congress,” he sighed before quickly adding, “Do not worry about it. Now let’s go.”

Gwen followed her father and made it to the stables just as the sun started to rise painting the sky brilliant shades of pink, purple, and orange. Mounting Gemma, Gwen’s thoughts returned to the letter. Rumors about creating some sort of army were traveling around the colonies and Gwen feared her father would get involved. Her family disagreed with the King’s taxes but she didn’t want to see her father go to war. 

After riding the plantation Gwen went to her room to change while her father retreated to his study. Sitting in front of her vanity Gwen inspected how much she had changed. Over the years the bright blue eyes turned to grey with a slight blue hue. However, when she was in the right light, the grey disappeared leaving a bright blue-green color. Her once platinum blonde hair darkened into a dirty-golden blonde wavy mix that ran to her mid-back. But a few streaks of original color remained, framing her face only going to her shoulders. Her features were strong and defined from her father but had a hint of her mother’s softness. Gwen had definitely inherited her father’s height, being only 15 she stood tall at five feet eight inches. Shaking her she switched into a turquoise gown and went to meet her tutor.

She had learned French, Latin, and Greek. She studied the classics and fell in love with history particularly with stories about the Roman Empire and the Egyptian Kingdoms. Attending college seemed like a far-off dream but each day that passed it seemed like more of a possibility. About a month ago she announced her ambition to apply to King’s College. Her father was naturally supportive but her mother worried about her youngest child leaving. But it took little convincing before she agreed with her husband and daughter.  That evening the post arrived with two letters sticking out from all the rest. One was from John Adams currently staying in Philadelphia, the other from King’s College in New York. Father and daughter opened their respective letters holding their breath as they read the contents. 

“I got in,” Gwen whispered.

“What was that?” her father asked looking up from his letter.

“I got in,” she exclaimed. No sooner did the words leave her lips, her father embraced her in a bone crush hug and lifted her off the ground. “Mother,” she cried, “I’ve been accepted.”

Her mother immediately put down her sewing and joined the hug. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she said leaving the embrace. “We both are.”

Her father’s eyes returned to the letter, while both women watched him. Looking back to them, he said solemnly, “Congress is summoning me to Philadelphia. They are to raise an army against the British and it seems as though Mr. Adams is adamant about me becoming the Commander-in-Chief.”

Surprising everyone in the room, a definitive voice said, “Go. They need you.” Gwen could hardly believe she had just said that. She didn’t know what changed her opinions within a day but a small part of herself knew he needed to go. 

“Gwendolyn, how could you say this? If your father goes he could find himself in the midst of a war,” her mother disputed.

“Gwen is right”, her father said. “If there is to be an open war with the British, then I must take part. I must leave as soon as possible.” With that, he left the room to begin preparing himself for the long journey ahead of him.

* * *

_ Mount Vernon, May 4, 1775. _

Gwen woke up before sunrise to get ready for the morning ride before remembering today was the day. For the past month, her father had been preparing to leave for Philadelphia. About a week after he began planning to leave, he decided that he wanted to bring her to New York before continuing on to Philadelphia. He wanted to ensure her safety and felt that the only way of doing so was to be at her side.

Still clinging on to a small sliver of hope, Gwen dressed in her riding attire and braided her hair before heading downstairs. There her father patiently waited at the table with something clenched in his hand. 

“I wondered if you would come downstairs or if I would have to wake you. ‘Be mindful of time for it can easily run out’. One of the many things Laurence taught me.” Her father always held his brother in high respect telling Gwen stories about her late uncle.

“As you taught me, always stay to a routine and remain punctual,” Gwen answered.

“I’m glad you did,” he laughed, “here I have something for you.” 

Opening his hand he revealed a necklace. An Egyptian sarcophagus pendant, something that always interested Gwen, hung from the loose chain. Before she could say anything her father said,

“When looking for my uniform I found Laurence’s trunk. I found this inside and thought of you,” He then walked behind her and secured it around her neck.

“Thank you. I’ll never take it off.”

“Now I believe we have a routine to finish,” he smiled.

Grinning, she ran to the stables to fetch Gemma. It would be the last ride with her father for a while.

~~~~

Gwen heard the sound of trunks carried through the hallway from her room. Her belongings were already taken out and it was only a matter of when her father would be ready to depart. She approached the stairs, preparing to descend, but her mother’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“I put your best breeches and your uniform in the big truck, where they won’t be as easily rumpled.”

“Now my taking of that uniform mustn’t concern you,” her father responded. “I’ll wear it only to demonstrate my willingness to lend Virginia forces to the cause. If the need arises.”

Gwen made her way to the banister but took care to remain out of view. She knew better than to eavesdrop, but her father remained determined to keep news about the rebellion away from her. The only way to find out what was going on in the world was this. She listened as her mother spoke again,

“You’d go to Boston to fight the King’s soldiers.”

“We may yet compose our differences,” he answered, trying to put her fears to rest. 

“You don’t really believe that George,” Martha countered. “Not if you're worried that the British fleet will send ships up the Potomac to bombard Patriot houses.”

“What!?” Gwen whispered to herself. How could he keep this from her and mother 

“I wish you hadn’t heard that,” he immediately interjected. 

“I’ve heard much more than you think these days,” she protested. Taking in a breath she continued, “My dear, what is happening, touches all of us. You can’t protect me from it, and you knew well that Gwen will eventually find out.”

Deciding it was time, Gwen started descending down the stairs. She almost reached the end when her mother asked,

“Would, Patriot leaders be taken to England, tried, and hanged as traitors?”

Gwen stopped for a moment, the thought sunk in. She couldn't bear the thought of her father taken by the British. She understood the amount of danger he was in, but no matter how many times it came up it didn’t stop the shock.

“They’d have to catch us first” came her father’s reply as he turned to head out the door. Gwen quickly hid, going up a few steps. She didn’t want to give him knowing she heard the entire question. 

Thankfully, her mother grabbed him by the arm. “I want to know,” she demanded. “I’m not an ostrich George. Much better to face danger than pretend it isn’t there.”

Gwen heard footsteps approaching the door as her father changed the subject, “I wish Will and Sally were still here to look in on you. But George Mason with his gouty leg will have to do.”

Her parents only took a few steps before stopping again to speak. She quietly went up a few stairs, not wanting to be caught. 

“I shall be fine in all things, except missing you and Gwen,” her mother confessed.

“I don’t want to leave either of you, but I must.”

“I know. And I won’t worry too much about you while you are gone. But Gwen...,” she trailed off, breaking eye contact for a moment. “George, I- I just don’t like the idea of her being that far away from home. It was hard enough when Jack attended for that short time, but I doubt Gwen will drop out.”

“Going to New York will be a great experience for her,” her father defended as the pair continued to walk. “It is the same reason I pushed Jack to go to King’s. Broaden her perspective and become introduced to new social circles.”

“And protect her. I’m not blind George, I know another reason you are sending her is that you fear the British coming through the Potomac. But what good will New York do? The head of the College is a kingsman, I fear for her safety.”

“Although we see differently, Myles Cooper is a respectable man. He has assured me that Gwen will be safe as a private student,” Her father assured, finally reaching the front door. How they had missed their daughter, she had no clue.

Gwen didn’t know what to think anymore. Was her father truly sending her to study to keep her away from potential harm? Having enough of waiting around, she made her presence known. “I know you worry mama, but trust me, I can take care of myself.”

Her parents turned around to see her halfway up the stairs. 

“Gwendolyn how long have you been there?” her father asked in a stern voice.

“I-uh,” She slightly stuttered. She looked towards her mother, silently begging her to intervene.

“Well?” her father pressed, wanting an answer. He already could guess that she’d been listening for some time.

“George,” her mother began in a calming voice. “You mustn't blame her for wanting to learn more. You’ve been keeping her in the dark for far too long. Let us enjoy these last few moments together first.”

Very well” he relented. “But we will discuss this later.”

Gwen internally smirked one of her father’s few weaknesses. It was how Jaky got out of most of his trouble, pleading with mother who would in turn tame her father’s more disciplinary parenting style.

The Washington family left the house, her father went to talk to a few of the slaves, ensuring to take good care of her mother.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Her mother asked.

“Yes, mother. And before you say anything, I’ll be fine. I can look out for myself.”

“I know you can. But I worry, with your father now openly showing support to Congress you will meet people who either love him or hate him. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I know, but again I can look after myself. Maybe now you will be thankful for all the times Jacky snuck me out,” she joked.

“Maybe I will be. But you know I will never stop worrying about you. It is what mother’s do, you’ll understand when you have children of your own.”

“If I have children of my own,” she corrected playfully. Gwen had no idea what she planned on doing in the future but she could guarantee that focusing on marriage was not one of those things. Most men she met were more interested in her family’s social standing than her views, and that did not sit well with her. If it were up to her, she wouldn’t marry and happily live the rest of her life with her individual freedom.

“Gwendolyn,” her mother warned. Gwen muttered an apology, refusing to look her mother in the eye. Over the past few months, her parents had been curbing her habit of making sarcastic, cheeky, or other quick-witted remarks. She didn’t make them out of rudeness or lack of respect, she only did them out of good humor. Jacky was the only one who never corrected her, partially because he instilled such speech in the first place.

“It is time,” her father called.

Nodding, Gwen turned back to her mother who embraced her. Kissing her cheek, she let her daughter go to turn to her husband. Saying their final goodbyes the father-daughter duo climbed into the carriage. Much to her father’s annoyance, Gwen ignored his hand to help her in, opting to pull herself up instead.

Not long after their journey started her father broke the silence. “Gwen, you know better than to eavesdrop on others' conversations.”

“I didn’t want to,” was her response, not bothering to look at her father. She continued to stare at the changing scenery, “but I needed to know what was going on.” She turned to him, “Yes, it was wrong, but I found a way.” She watched her father’s disapproving gaze before asking, “Was mother right? Would patriot leaders be hanged?”

“Do not try to switch the topic.”

Something snapped within her, the way her father tried to keep such topics away from her had reached a breaking point. “You gave me no choice,” she growled, managing to refrain from yelling. “Even now you refuse to tell me. You cannot keep it from me.” She took a deep breath to calm herself, “Please, don’t leave me with unanswered questions.”

Her father looked away, but his actions told her everything.

“You would be,” she said softly. Her father remained silent. “You know I will find out much more in New York than I can at Mount Vernon. You might as well tell me the truth than me hearing rumors from other students.”

“If war is waged and the colonies are defeated, then yes the leaders would either be hanged, exiled, or imprisoned,” he admitted. “But I am only going to show my support to lend Virginia soldiers to defend our sister colony.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, admiring the Virginian landscape for the rest of the day.

* * *

_ King’s College, May 8, 1775. _

After meeting with Myles Cooper and taking a small tour of the campus, it was time to say goodbye.

“I trust that you will focus on your studies and not follow the same path Jack had,” her father said.

“I will,” Gwen smiled.

“Well then,” he sighed. “I must be off if I am to reach Philadelphia in a timely manner.”

Engulfing his daughter in a hug, he kissed her head and whispered, “I know you will make me proud.”

Gwen hugged back, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. Finally letting go, she gripped the necklace he had given her and went on her tip-toes to kiss her father’s cheek. 

“When I see you next, you may have grown to the point where you do not need to reach as far,” he chuckled. Slightly ruffling her golden hair, he turned and climbed into the carriage. 

As the carriage started moving, he turned back and said his final goodbye, “I shall miss you, my dear Cate.” 

She smiled at the name, based off of Katherine Minola in ‘ _ The Taming of the Shrew’.  _ Her father admired her namesake’s independence and strong will, the origins of her middle name. Whenever he used ‘my dear Cate’ she did everything in her power to make him proud. Confident, Gwen re-entered the building, nothing would stop her.

* * *

_ King’s College, August 1, 1775. _

A few months after Gwen arrived in New York, she met Alexander Hamilton. Like her, he originally entered as a private student and received his education from the professor’s free time. He never liked to talk about his past, but from what Gwen was able to pick up he was an orphan from the Caribbean. He was quite passionate about the revolution and when he learned the daughter of the great General Washington was attending King’s College he introduced himself immediately. Gwen enjoyed his impulsive energized speeches but she always found herself having to hold him down for his own good. But he encouraged her to be herself, always trying to get a quick-witted remark out of her.

She recalled their first encounter quite clearly

* * *

_ ~ June 20, 1775 ~ _

_ Gwen had just received a letter from her father, he had been elected Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army. Currently, on his way to New England, her father would pass through New York and wished to see her before continuing onto Boston to face the British. Gwen worried about his occupation, he was now the face of this new rebel army. She also began getting much more attention ever since news reached New York, which was now in full patriot control, and it was becoming rather annoying. _

_ “Pardon me miss, but would you be Gwendolyn Washington?” _

_ Gwen turned around to see a man, slightly shorter than her with red hair and striking violet-blue eyes. Unsure of his intentions she simply replied, “I am.” _

_ A small grin formed on his face, “It is an honor to meet His Excellency’s daughter. I am Alexander Hamilton,” he slightly bowed. _

_ “I assume you are a patriot,” she replied, beginning her test of his character. _

_ “Yes, I along with other students formed the volunteer militia ‘The  _ _ Corsicans _ _.’” _

_ This wasn’t the first time some man on the rebel side approached her. She mostly evaded their attempts to befriend her, but something told her that this man, Hamilton, was different.  _

* * *

_ ~ June 25, 1775 ~ _

_ “Papa,” Gwen grinned trying not to run to her father as he turned around.  _

_ A smile appeared on the general’s face as he embraced his lively daughter. Pulling apart Gwen observed him taking note of the new uniform: the blue coat, three-starred epaulets, and a light-blue sash. The full reality that he was the general of this new continental army finally fell upon her, but she immediately hid any visibility of distress.  _

_ Her father made his own observations, “Is it possible, that you’ve grown taller since I last saw you?” he chuckled. _

_ “Maybe,” she slightly smirked. There was a glint in her blue-gray eyes as if she was planning some elaborate scheme. It was something he hadn’t seen in years, since before Patsy had died. He inwardly smiled, knowing sending her to this newer and more vibrant city was the right choice for her indomitable spirit. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about her staying in New York, but with the city in rebel hands and the British occupied in Boston, he was sure that she would remain safe for the time being.  _

_ ~~~~ _

_ As they walked through the New York streets a man called out to her father, “General Washington!” The man, also dressed in a General's uniform approached her father, with three young women, all slightly older than Gwen following. _

_ “Ah General Schuyler,” he greeted. “Gwen, this General Phillip Schuyler.” _

_ “General,” she nodded. _

_ “Miss Washington,” he smiled. _

_ “What brings you here to the city?” her father asked. “I thought you were on your way to New England?” _

_ “Like you, I wanted to visit my daughters before continuing,” he answered, gesturing to the three women who smiled. “Angelica, Elizabeth, and Margarita.” _

_ “But I go by Peggy,” the one in a yellow dress grinned. “It’s nice to meet you.” _

**(A.N. At this time, Angelica was 19, Eliza 17, and Peggy 16)**

_ “Likewise,” the younger Washington greeted. _

_ “Phillip,” her father asked, “would it be alright if Gwen were to stay with your daughters while I inspect our forces here in the city?” _

_ “Of course,” he replied.  _

_ The commander turned to his daughter, “I promise to see you before I continue onto Boston.” _

_ She gave him a smile and watched him and General Schuyler leave. Turning to the sisters an awkward silence fell between the four women, unsure of what to do.  _

_ Peggy grabbed Gwen’s arm, “Come on let’s go explore the city.”  _

_ Gwen chuckled at her actions and Peggy pulled her down the stress, leaving her giggling sisters to follow. _

_ “So, Gwendolyn,” Elizabeth began. _

_ “Oh, please. Call me Gwen. Gwendolyn is too formal.” _

_ “Then please call me Eliza. What is King’s College like?” _

_ “It’s… different from Mount Vernon. I never knew how amazing life in the city could be.” _

_ “I remember thinking the same thing when we first visited from our father’s estate,” remarked Angelica.  _

_ The four women continued to chat while they roamed the city. Gwen had never seen much of this part of New York before, but was grateful for the opportunity.  _

_ They eventually ran into Hamilton, who instantly recognized Gwen, “Miss Washington, it is a surprise to see you downtown.” _

_ “Mr. Hamilton,” she greeted. Noticing the slight confusion on the sisters’ faces she introduced him. “This is Mr. Alexander Hamilton, an acquaintance of mine.” _

_ “Ladies,” he slightly bowed. “I’m afraid I must cut our conversation short. The general is here to inspect New York’s troops and I need to report to my regiment.” _

_ “Of course,” Gwen said politely. _

_ “I do hope our next meeting isn’t as short as this.” He turned to the sisters, “and I hope that I will have the opportunity to be better acquainted with you.” He tipped his hat and continued walking down the street. _

_ “Well he’s quite the charmer,” Angelica remarked.  _

_ “If you say so,” Gwen laughed. _

_ “He’s definitely taken an interest to you,” Eliza teased. “You never told us how you know him.” _

_ “He is a student at King’s College. That’s how I met him,” Gwen explained. _

_ “There’s more to the story than that. Tell us!” Peggy prodded. _

_ “He introduced himself to me shortly after my father became the Commander-in-Chief. That’s all.” _

_ “Are you sure?” the eldest sister smirked.  _

_ “I’m quite sure. We are acquaintances, nothing more.” _

That sentiment soon proved to be false. The two continued having small conversations when they saw each other. Over time, Alex had gained her full trust and her friendship.

* * *

_ ~ June 30, 1775 ~ _

_ “Sorry,” Gwen apologized. She self-disciplined herself again for speaking before thinking. It had been happening more often, most likely a result of being around Alexander. But her father’s recent visit reminded her of self-control. _

_ “Why do you apologize?” Alex inquired.  _

_ “I shouldn’t have spoken like that” was all she said, her eyes focusing on the ground. _

_ “I may have only known you for a little over a week, but I can tell that you want to make those witted comments.” _

_ Gwen paused holding back her initial, sarcastic, agreement and instead replied, “That may be true, but it is improper for a woman to speak like that.” _

_ “Because of societal expectations?” he asked, earning a nod. “Then to hell with society!” he laughed. _

_ Gwen gave a breathy laugh, opening her mouth to argue before he cut her off, “Quick-witted remarks and well-placed sarcasm will help you more than following rules deemed by others. Live up to your namesake Katherine Minola, and damn the consequences.” _

* * *

That conversation sealed their friendship. Any filter between her mind and mouth that had developed was largely ignored. She spoke her mind and formed an uncaring attitude to those who criticized her ‘unwomanly’ actions. But she still retained some restraint, knowing that there were times when it was more favorable to remain quiet… something Alexander never took advantage of.

A few weeks later he introduced her to Hercules Mulligan, a tailor who immigrated from Ireland. When Alexander first arrived in America, he took the West Indian in allowing him to stay at his home. He became a huge influence on Alex’s views and jumped at the chance to meet Gwen. Her father’s reputation attracted much attention from all views on the Revolution, but these two friends were the only ones who saw her as an individual. The rest mostly tried to charm her due to her relationship with the Commander-in-Chief. Hercules became protective of Gwen, on the border of an overly protective brother and a parental figure. 

Today was one of the few days Gwen could leave the school grounds, unlike Alexander who didn’t live on campus. They decided to pay a visit to Hercules, who told them of his latest exploits with the Sons of Liberty.

“So Gwen, what do you plan on doing after you graduate?” asked Alex.

“To be honest, I have no idea. It depends on how the war goes, but I already see my mother trying to find me a suitor.” She laughed.

“Would it be me,” he replied cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Stop right there Hammie,” Hercules chided. 

“I was only joking,” Alex defended, putting his arms up. 

“No Alexander, it would not be you,” Gwen joked along. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t marry at all.”

“And why is that?” The tailor questioned. 

“Because married women have little to no freedom or rights. Everything they have belongs to their husband. I can provide for myself, learn how to take over Mount Vernon one day.”

“And what if someone catches your eye?” The younger man asked. 

Gwen gave him a glare, “I doubt that will happen. But if it does, then I adapt. But my priorities lie with succeeding here, not in finding a suitor.”

* * *

_ New York, August 22, 1775 _

“Have you heard the news?” Alexander asked.

“No, what is it? Has something happened in Boston?” Gwen was anxious for news from the city. With the increasing tension in the city and her growing support for independence, Gwen wanted to be involved as much as possible.

“No, but the New York provincial Congress has ordered that the cannons from the battery be moved to the Hudson.”

“Is this in response to the British ship that just sailed in?”

Alexander nodded. “Tomorrow night, I will be with the others to move the cannons.”

“Really!” she exclaimed. The thought of revolutionary action in New York excited her. Angelica summarized the current events perfectly in her most recent letter,  _ ‘The revolution is coming to New York. History is happening in Manhattan and we are lucky enough to witness it.’ _

This is what Gwen had been waiting for. This was her chance to do more, to not be stuck watching the revolution from afar. 

“How can I help?” her face full of determination

“What? What do you mean help?”

“I mean how can I help you steal the cannons.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

Gwen’s face didn’t falter, “I am. Listen I’ll do whatever you tell me, I’m not asking to be directly in the action. Just please let me help.”

“Fine, I’m asking you not to get involved. It’s dangerous.” He started walking off, but Gwen refused to be defeated so easily. 

Running up to him she continued, “So it’s fine if you go, but I can’t.”

Alexander continued his pace, “I signed up for this. I am doing my job.”

Gwen jumped in front of him, “And what if I want to do the same thing?” 

He looked at her sternly, “You know the reasons why you can’t be involved. You can’t help us with this, so let it go.”

She frowned as he walked around her. She marched back to her room, frustrated at all the limitations the world placed in front of her. Alexander’s words played in her head,  _ ‘You can’t help us with this, so let it go.’ _

She was determined to get involved, just to prove him wrong. This was about more than the revolution, this was about proving she was capable. Her attitude sparked an insane idea that she first tried to ignore. She knew it was a terrible plan, extremely dangerous, and if caught put her future at King’s in jeopardy. But it became harder to resist every moment.

“Alright Alexander,” she muttered to herself, “if I can’t help you as a woman, then I’ll have to do it as a man.”

* * *

_ New York Battery, August 23, 1775 _

Gwen knew that her idea was completely mad, nevertheless, she followed through with it. Earlier that day, she went to Mulligan’s shop when she knew he would be out. In the back, he kept a messy stockpile of clothes that he said, “would never be worn.” She figured that they wouldn’t be missed, and managed to get them back to her dorm. After nearly getting caught trying to sneak out of the campus, she quickly moved through the streets towards the battery. 

She caught a glimpse of the men rolling cannons down from the battery when the British warship that had sailed in earlier fired. She jumped at the cannon fire, and for a moment considered the idea of turning back. It wasn’t too late to do so, but she had come too far to just turn back. She came to prove herself, and that was exactly what she would do. She just hoped that the dark of night would be enough to disguise her. Her hair was tucked under her shirt and the clothes that she did have were far too big. 

Most of the cannons had already been moved and the remaining few were already being pulled from their positions. She watched Alexander hand his musket to Hercules and take up one of the ropes to the cannons. She quickened her pace, wanting to help with the next cannon. She approached the men, who struggled to get it to move.

“How can I help?” she cried in an unnatural deeper voice.

The men looked at each other, unsure to let someone who wasn’t in any uniform help. But they needed to move the cannon.

“Grab the rope,” one of them called.

She helped them as best she could until Hercules appeared. She panicked for a second thinking he had recognized her.

“Here, thanks for the help kid but I’ve got it,” he laid Alexander’s musket on the ground taking her place. “We’ve gotta get out here, come on lads.” 

Gwen was about to follow when she noticed the weapon still on the ground. “Ah, what the hell,” she muttered and grabbed it. Following Mulligan, who had now abandoned the cannon they continued running toward the rest of the regiment.

“Herc! Where’s my musket?” She heard Alex yell.

“Well, you see. I might have left it there when we retreated,” he replied sheepishly. 

The West Indian huffed and began heading back toward the battery.

“Wait,” Gwen cried. “I have your musket, sir.”

“Thank you,” he replied, slightly surprised. “What is your name?”

Gwen paused and her mind went into a whirlwind. She never created a fake name, further proving to herself of how terribly thought out her plan was. “William, sir,” she began desperately trying to think of a surname. Glancing behind him, she noticed a shop window displaying several pickled foods. “William… Pickler.” She mentally cringed at the name, but hopefully it would be enough to convince Hamilton.

“Thank you, William. What brings you out here?”

“I woke up to the cannons and saw your men stealing them. I wanted to do what I could to help the cause,” she lied, convinced that he would find her out.

“Well, perhaps you could help us out again sometime. Or even join us.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir. I currently cannot do so, but if the opportunity presents itself I might.”

“I hope to see that day,” he smiled turning back to the other men. He began shouting orders to continue moving the cannons to their new locations. 

Gwen rounded a corner and leaned against the brick wall, letting out a huge sigh of relief. How she managed to convince him she was someone else, she would never know. 

Sneaking back onto the campus was significantly easier. Once inside her room, she collapsed on her bed. Her heart still pounded from the adrenaline, she had gotten a small taste of the action. Dare she say she enjoyed it, but now she wanted more. She changed out of the ‘borrowed’ clothes and quickly hid them, hoping she could use them again

* * *

_ New York, March 15, 1776. _

Now sixteen years old, Gwen began to understand the war even more. Ever since her little excursion at the battery, things in the city had calmed. Now the once-bustling city was silent. Thousands of people evacuated after the  _ HMS Asia _ fired back in August.

Annoyed at the restrictions Gwen went to the one person who would start a huge debate. She found him in a tavern protesting a Tory speaker.

_ ‘Typical Alexander, always picking fights.’  _ she thought

She saw another man drag him by the sleeve and as she approached she could see Alex tell him off before walking away. 

Sighing, she approached the man, “Sir.”

“Yes,” he seemed rather annoyed before turning around, “I’m sorry miss…”

“Gwendolyn,” she answered.

“Washington?”

“That’s correct.”

“Ah, Well it is an honor to meet you, Miss Washington. I am sorry for my rather rude outburst.”

“It’s quite alright. I just wanted to apologize for my friend’s behavior. He can get … very passionate when he speaks.”

“No need to apologize on his behalf. Where are my manners, Captain Aaron Burr at your service. Your father’s recent attack on the British in Boston is quite impressive.”

“As was your valor in Quebec.”

“Gwen, there you are. What are you doing?” Alex shouted

“Talking to Mr. Burr -

“-Very nice,” he interrupted obviously agitated, “let’s go”

“But-”

“It was nice seeing you sir,” Alex sarcastically said. He started pulling her arm, leading her to the door.

“I hope we can continue our conversation Captain,” she called, annoyed at his actions.

“What was that all about?” Gwen asked as they walked down the street.

“Nothing of importance. He just believes we should sit back and do nothing!” Alex growled

“Alex, you need to stop picking fights with every man you disagree with. And it would be nice if you would at least allow me to finish a conversation, not lead me out. ”

“I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in the courtyard of King’s College. He gestured to a bench and the two sat in silence for a few minutes.

Alex finally broke the silence, “Gwen, I joined the army. I’m leaving King’s.”

“What? When did you decide this?” she said. Gwen was shocked normally Alex tells her everything as soon as it happens. It’s just his nature.

“A few days ago. I was promised the Captain’s commission of Artillery if I am able to raise a regiment. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how.”

Gwen just sat in silence. Her friend, the man she considered a brother was about to drop everything he ever worked for to fight. Not knowing what to say she hugged him.

“Just be careful. Stealing cannons was one thing, but this is actual war. An official regiment, not the militia.”

“I know. But don’t worry, I’m always careful.”

“Why does that not reassure me?” she half-joked.

“Very funny,” he replied in a mildly sarcastic tone.

Gwen sighed. “Just, please write. And don’t leave out details on the war, my father does that too much. I want to know what’s happening.”

“It’s a deal.”

* * *

_ Mount Vernon, July 1776. _

Not long after Alex told her that he was joining the army, he became Captain of the  Provisional Company of the New York Artillery. Soon afterward King’s College closed due to the looming war. Gwen returned to Mount Vernon but never felt quite at home. It was too quiet, no new people to interact with. No fellow students to debate. And no Alexander to make life interesting. 

Her mother had noticed how much Gwen had changed from her time in New York. Most notably her attempts to start a political discussion, one that would bring about topics to debate. She spoke her mind and didn’t seem to care for the consequences. It was something she tried to reel back but the more she did, the harder Gwen fought. 

She never told her mother this, not once. She feared her mother would put a watchful eye on her so she could never leave. When they got word that America was now independent of England, Gwen knew it was time. 

She continued to write to Alex. When he wrote that America declared itself free and independent from England, she knew she had to join. The same calling she felt when she stole the cannons came back in full force. She still had the clothes from Mulligan’s shop and with a bit of needlework, she could possibly get them to fit. This time she would go in with a more well thought out plan, and hopefully, last long enough to make a difference.

* * *

_ Mount Vernon, July 31, 1776. _

It was nearly midnight when Gwen crawled out of bed. After changing into the more fitted clothes and cutting her hair to her upper back, she looked in the mirror. She could pass as a man, her height and build from so much riding worked to her advantage. She pulled out a letter from her desk that read

_ Dearest Mother, _

_ I’m sorry for what I am about to do but I have to. I need to fight for the future of this country, for my future, for the future of the next generation. I know you will worry, but I will try to write frequently to assure you that I am alive and well. I know you will write to father immediately so I ask you, please look after him. He needs to lead the army not to focus on my whereabouts. I love you both _

_ -Gwendolyn _

Satisfied with it, she placed it on her desk before sneaking out to the stables. Mounting Gemma, Gwen rode off to New York where she would join Alexander. It was time for William Pickler to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hautbois is what the oboe was called back in the 18th century. If you didn’t guess it already I play the oboe. Obviously women didn’t typically play air instruments but the author said ‘screw it! It’s my story’ lol. 
> 
> As of re-writing this chapter I had an idea, small stories of alternate history. Like what if Hamilton lived or never dueled Burr, what if Washington lived longer, what if the British won the war (and there are a LOT of different scenarios that I would be more than happy to write) Different outcomes at in battles: Brandywine, Escape from Long Island (there was no fog and Washington was captured), Monmouth either Charles Lee wasn’t a failure or Washington never got there in time. Yorktown becoming a complete failure, the British catch on and send troops from New York to Yorktown instead. And my favorite, Arnold succeeds, and the British capture West Point and Washington. Let me know which scenario I should do first or recommend one of your own.
> 
> I’m sorry for the lack of updates, but there are just some scenes where I have writer's block even though I have an urge to write. What I’ve been doing is writing later scenes (like season 3 and 4) because I have so much inspiration for those. I hope that if I get those ideas down I can get back to rewriting these chapters and finish off season 1. When writing one such scene I looked at the Newspaper from Season 4 Episode 4: Nightmare. *sigh* my job is becoming much more complicated than it needs to be


	3. Help From a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I didn’t know what to do… I had to delete a lot of this part of this story to fix the inaccuracies. I took parts of Chapter 4 and put it in here to add length, but this will be a short chapter. I just wanted to get it out of the way so I can finish my rewriting and finally finish up chapter 8!
> 
> This chapter was re-written on August 9.

_New York, August 6, 1776._

It took five days, but Gwen, or rather William, finally reached New York. Tents lined the outskirts of the city, housing rebel soldiers and militia. Jumping down from her horse, Gwen nervously approached the enlistment tent hoping her disguise was enough.

“Name and age?” a small man from behind a desk asked.

“William Pickler, 16.”

Suspicious, the man pressed another question, “You wouldn’t be related to the North Carolina Picklers would you?”

“Umm,” she stalled. “Yes?”

“Nice try boy, I’m from North Carolina and I know the Picklers are Tories No matter how hard they pose themselves as patriots.”

Panicking Gwen tried to redeem herself, “No, sir. I don’t relate to them. I disagree with their views and ran away.”

“To New York,” he laughed, “I can tell you're a spy. Why else come to one of the main camps”

“No, I-”

“Take him out, lads.”

Outside the tent, a man heard the commotion. He was going to ignore it until he saw a familiar face. He couldn’t believe it. ‘ _What is she doing here?’_ He thought. Once he saw guards about to drag her out he jumped into action.

“What’s going on here?”

Turning her head, Gwen saw her red-haired friend all dressed in an officer’s uniform.

“Captain Hamilton, sir. This boy, from a Tory family, is trying to enlist.”

“And. Why are you stopping him? His family name should not be the deciding factor. We need men, and if he is willing to serve, who are we to deny him.”

“He could be a spy sir,” the small man argued.

“Nonsense, lieutenant. I actually know him,” turning to the enlister, “how are you doing Blondie? I haven’t seen you since King’s College closed. I thought you went back home.”

Quickly regaining her composure Gwen replied, “ I couldn’t stay in a place I didn’t belong in. I heard you were still serving in New York so I thought I would come and join you.”

Nodding Alex addressed the lieutenant, “Finish his enlistment. Then send him to me.” Alex looked back at Gwen, “we have much to discuss.”

Grumbling the lieutenant finished the process before pushing Gwen out of the tent. Looking around the camp Gwen saw the conditions and gave her decision a second thought. She shook her head, she came too far to turn around.

“Excuse me,” she said in an unnaturally deep voice, “can you direct me to Captain Hamilton.”

“There,” the soldier pointed, gesturing to a tent.

“Thank you,” she said, hurrying off as she disciplined herself for not practicing a lower voice.

Right as she reached the tent the flap opened and Alex pulled her in.

“What the hell are you doing here, Gwen,” he angrily whispered. “It’s not safe and you’re lucky that I was able to stop the lieutenant from exposing you. What on Earth were you thinking!”

“Nice to see you too, Alex,” she joked.

“Now is not the time for jokes. We’re in a bloody war.”

“I couldn’t stay at home,” she confessed before declaring, “I’ve already made up my mind, I’m fighting, and you can’t stop me.”

“Oh yes I can,” he shot back, “I can easily go straight to your father and turn you in. ”

“You wouldn’t dare do it though,” she challenged. Her grey eyes stared into his violet-blue ones as she continued, “because what’s to stop me from doing it again?” Gwen knew Alex too well, she knew exactly how to twist his arm to make him see sense.

“Nothing,” he said defeatedly.

“Exactly. I came here, to THIS camp because I trust you. Don’t break that trust.”

“If you are to stay,” he began, “you’ll need to improve your disguise. I might work for a while but I was easily able to recognize you and the other soldiers will connect the dots.”

“So, how do we do that?”

“We’ll need some help.”

* * *

Side by side the two patriots walked down 23 Queen Street, stopping at _Mulligan Habderdafhery._ The pair entered the shop to be greeted by an old friend.

“Alexander, is that you?” a man called as he entered from the back room.

“Yes it is,” he responded.

“Good to see you again. Who’s your friend?”

Gwen couldn’t help but laugh, “And you said I needed to improve my disguise. Hercules it’s me, Gwen.”

“Gwen Washington? Back in New York? Come here you.” WIth that Hercules enveloped her in a giant bear hug.

“Blondie here decided to disguise herself as a man and join the army,” Hamilton said annoyed. “You might not have been able to tell but I saw past the facade immediately. And if she runs into Washington, _HER FATHER_ , he will recognize her even faster.”

Letting Gwen go Hercules nodded, “Of course. I can make up a uniform for you.”

“Herc, I couldn’t-” Gwen protested

“-No,” he interrupted, “I’m doing this for you and the cause. No need to pay me or anything.”

“Hercules-”

“No Gwen, I already told you. You don’t need to-”

“-Thank you”

“You’re very welcome. Say I recognize those clothes.”

“Well,” Gwen laughed nervously. “You see… I - uh- _may_ have taken some clothes from the back that you were never going to sell.”

“When?”

She looked down sheepishly, “When you went to steal cannons.”

“You didn’t,” Alex trailed off.

Gwen bit her lip, “I did. I’m going, to be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me the first time. I guess I have the darkness to thank for that.”

“You were William Pickler!” he realized.

“Yup,” she grinned.

“I should have known. I should have known you would do something like that.”

“So let me get this straight,” Hercules interjected. “While you were still a student at King’s College, living on Campus. You snuck out past curfew in clothes that you stole from me and joined us at the battery to help steal cannons after Alexander specifically told you not to get involved.”

Gwen felt slightly guilty, “Well when you put it that way, I can see why-”

“I’m not going to lie. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Alex warned, seeing Gwen’s grin grow.

“Trust me, I don’t think the kid needs encouragement,” the tailor defended. 

“Hey,” Gwen said in mock offense, “I’m sixteen”

“Further proving my point.”

“Enough you two,” laughed Alex. “As much as I would love to watch you bicker, I need to get her situated back at camp.”

“Of course. It was nice seeing you again.” Herc gave her a final hug before calling out as they left, “Keep him out of trouble will you!”

“Shut up,” Alex shot back

The two had walked for a few minutes before Gwen subconsciously started fiddling with her necklace.

“What do you have there,” Alex.

“It was a gift from my father before he left. I promised him I would never take it off.”

“It’s nice, but I would make sure to hide it under your shirt. It will help with your disguise. Plus it will be more protected, I’m sure you don’t want it damaged or lost during battle.” 

Nodding Gwen moved the necklace before a comfortable silence fell between them, as they returned to camp. 

Figuring out how to keep her secret was harder than either of them anticipated. Alexander had mentioned that his men were often undisciplined, adding another obstacle to where she would stay. Eventually, they had her tent with Thomas Thompson, one of the few men Alex trusted.

“You know, we should have an alternate name for you,” the young Captain suggested. “If your identity as William Pickler is compromised I mean.” 

“You’re right,” Gwen answered. “If anyone was to find out, especially the British they could use it against my father.”

“So what will the name be?” he asked.

She pondered for a second, “Lyn Dieterle. And I want you to start calling me that. I don’t need anyone overhearing my name and connecting the dots.”

“Lyn?”

“It’s a shortened version for a whole bunch of other names. It adds another layer of security.” 

“Now let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

* * *

_New York, August 8, 1776._

Waking up to the rising sun, Lyn quickly got ready and decided to take a walk around the camp. Leaving the tent, Lyn noticed that despite its looks, the camp was rather well off. Nothing looked like it was in short supply and soldiers looked well fed. Her observations were interrupted when a courier galloped through the camp. Lyn thought of her mother again. She desperately wanted to write to her, to tell her she was safe, but she couldn’t risk exposure or interception of the letter. If the British found out the Commander-in-Chief's daughter was fighting they could take advantage of his grief.

After a while, she decided to turn around and meet up with John now that the sun had fully risen. She found Alex heading towards his tent with a stack of letters and quickly called out to him.

“Captain Hamilton,” she said. Not daring to call him by his first name in front of the other soldiers.

He looked towards her and nodded to follow him into his tent. Once inside she relaxed and resumed speaking in her normal voice.

“So what exactly will I be doing now?”

“You,” he started as he sorted through letters, “will start your training. I don’t think you ever learned how to shoot or handle a bayonet or sword.”

“I learned a bit,” she said. Alex snapped his head up in confusion. “When I was a child, Jacky would take me outside and show me what my father taught him.” She smiled at the memory before focusing back on Alexander.

Looking back at the letters Alex suddenly stood out of his chair.

“What is it?” Lyn asked.

“I have direct orders from General Washington,” he simply stated. Once he finished reading he handed them to her.

_Captain Hamilton,_

_You and your company are to be on high alert for an imminent invasion of Manhattan. The movements of the enemy and intelligence by deserters give the utmost reason to believe that the great struggle in which we are contending for everything dear to us and our posterity, is near at hand._

_General George Washington._

After reading she looked at Alex who only said, “I hope you prepare well for this, it will be your first experience with war.”

“Well… if you count the cannon stealing,” she smirked to him.

“Don’t remind me. I hope you know I still can’t believe you were able to pull it off. How was I able to recognize you here but not that night!?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure either. I mean I thought I was done for when you asked me for my name.”

“Speaking of, where did Pickler come from?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. That’s why I asked,” he smiled, enjoying their sibling-like banter.

Sighing she replied, “When you asked me, I tried to look anywhere that wasn’t your eyes. What my eyes landed on was a storefront… with a display of pickled goods.”

Alex couldn’t hold in his laughter. “You mean to tell me because you saw pickles you based your name off of that.”

“I know it’s ridiculous,” she laughed along. “Hell, the worst part was that I didn’t know it was a Tory name.”

“My my, I never knew you were one to swear. Didn’t your parents teach you otherwise”

“You’re the one who told me to damn the consequences! I’m starting to think however it was bad advice. I said I was from North Carolina because I thought it would help sell my story not get me nearly arrested!”

“Aren't you glad I was able to save you.”

“You’ll only hear this from me once… but yes I’m glad you were there.”

* * *

**Quick A.N. From this moment onward Gwen (or Lyn) will be referred to as William in public and Lyn (sometimes Gwen) in private. The pronouns will match which name is in use. Simply because there will be a LOT of characters who don’t know her identity for a while and will have a lot of scenes with their point of view. For the sake of clarity, I’m doing this so I don’t keep switching pronouns.**

* * *

_New York, August 27, 1776._

Nearly three weeks had passed since William joined Captain Alexander Hamilton’s company. After the dispatch from General Washington arrived, the entire camp had been on alert. William trained with the other men, but his slight prior experience with shooting and quick aptitude help him surpass everyone else.

Of course, they got jealous and began claiming that Captain Hamilton was playing favorites as he always was by Pickler’s side. Thankfully no one had ever suspected that William Pickler was a woman. As the weeks went by, William became more confident in his abilities and his voice became more accustomed to a lower register.

William walked throughout the camp looking for Alexander when he found him. Lost in thought staring at the city, Alex started petting the cannon as if it were a horse. Laughing to himself, Will knew he would use this against his friend.

“Hey, Captain. That’s an interesting horse you got there,” Will teased.

Alex immediately snapped back into reality pulling his hand away from the cannon before snapping a, “shut up,” back.

Laughing, Will joined his friend staring at the city. They were still on high alert and Alex was constantly watching the city. Then something caught his eye, it looked like boats crossing the river from Staten Island, but they weren’t traveling to Manhattan they were going further downriver.

“Alex,” he said slightly panicked, “What's going on over there?” He then pointed in the direction of the boats.

Pulling out his spyglass Alex saw that the Redcoats were traveling to Brooklyn on Long Island. Devastated, he passed the spyglass to Will without saying a word. Will looked through the spyglass and saw the British troops landing in Brooklyn where only 2,750 were stationed in makeshift forts.

“There’s easily 10,000 of those lobsters,” he growled before speaking in a softer voice, “There’s no way they’ll be able to hold Long Island from the British.”

The two watched, helpless as the British ferried the rest of their troops totaling 22,000 men.

“Alex,” Will whispered, “how many soldiers do we have stationed on all of Long Island?”

“About 10,000,” he said solemnly.

The distant cannon fire rang through the air as the pair bowed their heads. They knew that the Americans on Long Island were no match for the British.

_Brooklyn, August 29, 1776._

General Washington watched as the British outflanked his troops. In desperation, he ordered his men to row across the river to Manhattan before they too would be slaughtered by the British.

To him, it must have been an act of Providence, for a thick fog came down covering his army’s movements. All but one of the boats had left, he took one last look back at Brooklyn before stepping onto the boat that rowed into the thick blanket.

He sat down with his head in his hands and reeled in the events of the past two days. He had made so many mistakes, so many errors, but none compared to the loss that occurred a month ago. When he received a letter from his wife informing him that his daughter, his precious child had run away. He couldn’t bear thinking about her dying in this war, but he had to remain strong.

For the army, for the future of America, for her _._

* * *

_New York, September 12, 1776._

The news of Washington’s defeat at Long Island and his retreat was devastating. Alex and Will had gotten word that Hercules was captured during the battle and was taken to New York. The General had ordered the army to abandon New York City to the British to preserve the Army. But before Washington could decamp, the British attacked at Kips Bay. It was only two miles from where Alexander and William were camped and the invasion had cut off the company from the rest of the Army.

“Alex,” William said, “we are completely vulnerable here. We need to retreat before the British capture us all.”

“No,” the Captain barked back, “General Knox ordered me to rally the men and stand our ground at this fort.”

Realizing there was no way to change Alex’s mind, Will stormed back into his tent he shared with Thomas. Finally, alone, Lyn dropped her masculine facade. Deciding it was best to get some sleep before a long battle took place, she climbed into bed.

~~~~

Major Aaron Burr quickly rode through the night toward Hamilton’s hill fort with new orders from General Washington. He made his way to Alex’s tent where he found the young man scribbling away on a piece of parchment. Knocking on the post, Aaron made his presence known to Alexander who merely looked up from his work.

“Captain Hamilton, you need to evacuate the fort now,” the Major announced.

“I have orders from General Knox to stand my ground, sir,” the Captain countered.

“And I have orders from Washington that countermand Knox. Now you must hurry, no time to pack. Wake your men and then follow me.”

~~~~

Lyn jolted awake to Thomas waking her up, “Pickler let's move. We’re evacuating the camp no time to pack, get your boots, and go.” With that, he exited joining the other soldiers.

She immediately jumped and tried to dress in the lighting that was provided. It was sloppy but if she wore her coat a certain way it would cover up the rushed mess.

Knowing there was no time to waste, Lyn did her best to look like William Pickler, but she knew she had to go.

William raced towards the stables with a pistol, musket, and cloak in hand. Mounting Gemma he rode towards the front of the group where Alexander was. He still didn’t put his cloak on but hoped that Gemma’s speed would prevent any soldier from being able to fully see the feminine figure on horseback. When he finally made it to the front, he re-adjusted his coat when he found Alex.

“What is going on?” William hissed.

“Aaron Burr came in with orders from General Washington to evacuate,” he responded. Alex finally got a good look at William in the dim light of the moon and was filled with panic. “You don’t look like Pickler.”

“I know that,” Will shot back, “but I didn’t have enough time or light to fully prepare.”

“Before dawn, try to pull off the road and fix yourself before rejoining the company,” he instructed.

Suddenly Aaron Burr appeared from the mob of soldiers. He then led the company down a concealed path on the west side of the island towards Harlem Heights. The group made it to their destination before dawn, and William immediately rode into the forest to find a more secluded spot. Taking off the cloak, coat, and waistcoat, Lyn readjusted the binding under her shirt. She then quickly re-braided her hair before she heard a twig snap. Ducking down low she cursed to herself, “shite”.

“I know you’re out there. Don’t be afraid I won’t tell anyone,” said a voice.

Lyn debated on answering but finally responded, “And how do I know I can trust you.”

The man became quiet before he said, “If I tell you my name will you tell me yours?”

“It depends,” she said back, “what’s your name.”

“Aaron Burr,” he answered.

Lyn let out a sigh of relief. Although she had only met the man once she felt she could trust him. Getting on her feet, she put on the waistcoat and grabbed the cloak and coat. She walked towards him and said, “I trust you.”

“I recognize you from somewhere.”

“We’ve met once before,” she said.

“You’re Gwendolyn?” he said shocked.

“Yes, but you will call me Lyn Dieterle. It’s to protect my name and my father’s.”

“Of course, I understand. May I ask who you are in camp?”

“William Pickler. I must ask, why won’t you tell anyone. You hardly know me, if anything turning me in would do you good. Draw the attention and thanks of my father.” Lyn said.

“Because I believe women can fight for the Revolution too. You are an inspiration and embody the belief that women are equal to men.”

Lyn was taken aback by this statement. No one had ever told her she was equal to a man. Not even her father told her that directly. “Well sir, I thank you for this. And I hope we can develop a friendship,” she said holding out her hand.

He eagerly accepted and shook it. Smiling the two walked back to the new encampment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left to re-write. On a different note, my AC has been broken for 5 days… and I live in Florida. Yeah, not fun, all the ‘kids’ bedrooms are upstairs and it’s freaking 93 degrees. Thankfully one of my neighborhood friends is letting my brother and I stay at their house while my mom and step-dad get to use the one-room portable AC unit. I’ll finish up chapter 4 tomorrow, but I wanted to post this tonight.


	4. Battle Commences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was once again at a loss for what to put here, but I didn't want to leave you with a short chapter. So what I did was combine Chapters 4 and 5 into one. Chapter 5 is pretty short, only 1,700 words. Combining them would give me a 4,000+ word chapter, which is what I'm aiming for.

_Harlem Heights, New York. September 16, 1776._

William couldn't understand how things could get any worse. They hadn't even been at Harlem Heights for four days before the British launched another attack early that morning. He shot another redcoat from the safety of the trench before ducking and reloading his musket. The British had become overconfident with their recent victories and were now paying the price.

It wasn't even noon when the British retreated. The Continental's had finally won, restoring faith within the war. The troops started giving loud "huzzahs" around the field as they saw the backs of the British. Smiling William realized that this was his first-ever real battle encounter with the British. Although short, it was a victory nonetheless. He met Hamilton's eyes and the two shared a smile as they took part in the celebrations.

~~~~

General Washington saw the British retreat and smiled to himself. After all his mistakes, perhaps he could lead the rebel army to victory and perhaps find Gwen in the process.

* * *

_Manhattan, New York. September 22, 1776._

British Captain John Montresor rode along under his white flag of truce with a message from General Howe. He was to meet with Washington's aides to express British concerns and complaints about breaches of war-etiquette, prisoner exchanges, and other formalities to negotiate with the enemy.

Climbing the steps of Roger Morris's hilltop mansion — now occupied by the American commander — Montresor recognized an artillery officer standing on the sidelines. He had known Alexander Hamilton when he was a student at King's College.

He approached his former classmate, feeling it was best to deliver the somber news to him. "Hello, Hamilton."

"Montresor?"

"Yes."

"I see you come under flag of truce. What is your business here?"

"To bring a message from General Howe. But I am glad that I found you. You were friends with Hercules Mulligan. Correct?"

"Yes... has something happened?"

"He was arrested in a sweep to clean out Patriots in New York."

Alexander hid his shock, he needed to tell Gwen this right away. "I see if that is all-"

"-There is something else," Montresor stopped him. Sighing he informed the man in front of him. "We apprehended one of your officers last night, Captain Hamilton; unfortunately, under the denomination of a spy. A Captain Hale, serving with your Colonel Knowlton."

Confused, Alexander replied, "With respect, sir, that is nonsense; we don't use our officers as spies. When will the trial be conducted? General Washington will want to know immediately. We will demand that he be treated as a prisoner of war!"

Montresor looked at him incredulously. "He was executed, Captain...this morning."

Hamilton frowned. "Captain Hale...was hanged?"

Montresor nodded. "I want you to know, on the morning of his execution my station was near the fatal spot, and I requested the Provost Marshal to permit the prisoner to sit in my marquee, while he was making the necessary preparations. Captain Hale entered, he was calm, and bore himself with gentle dignity.....He asked for writing materials, which I furnished him: he wrote two letters, one to his mother..... and one to a brother officer. He was shortly summoned to the gallows. But a few persons were around him, yet his characteristic dying words were remembered. He said, 'I only regret that, I have but one life to lose for my country.'"

"What of the letters," Alex inquired.

"I am afraid to report that those were stolen from my tent when I accompanied Captain Hale."

Hamilton cringed, i. "I shall see that His Excellency is informed. Thank you, sir." He answered stiffly, regretting to be the bearer of bad news.

Montresor fumbled for words as the young Captain turned to leave. "Alexander, please...ah...inform Mr. Washington that Captain Hale died, a credit to your...cause."

"I will," he replied. The two parted ways, Montresor looking for Washington's aide Tilghman while Alexander sought out his friend.

~~~~

William was nervous about being in the same camp as the general. The whole point of joining Alex's company was so that he wouldn't run into the general and be exposed as Gwendolyn Washington. He could only thank the British for that. Their attack on Long Island forced the company to retreat and join the main army. All he could do now was avoid Washington as much as possible.

"William," he heard his name called.

Turning he saw Alexander approaching him. "I have urgent news I need to share with you, come with me."

Following Alex, Will noticed they were going in the direction of headquarters, "Don't tell me someone's already figured me out."

"What? No!. It's just that I have news to bring to the general as well."

Letting out a sigh of relief he asked, "So what is it?"

"I'm afraid it's not good news. Hercules was arrested in Howe's cleaning of Patriots in the city."

"What! Herc is in jail?"

Alex gave a solemn nod, gesturing for him to follow into headquarters. "You can wait outside the general's office, I need to inform him of a different development."

William followed him to the door but dared not to go any further. He turned to continue down the hallway when he bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry," William apologized, helping the Lieutenant pick up his papers.

"It's quite alright. I should have been watching where I was going," he replied as he began re-organizing them.

William held out the papers that he collected. The Lieutenant gave him a gracious smile, "Thank you..."

"Private William Pickler," he introduced.

"Lieutenant Benjamin Tallmadge," he held out his hand.

Will gave him a firm shake. Realizing that Lieutenant Tallmadge must have been in a hurry he quickly replied, "Again I apologize, I shouldn't keep you waiting."

Benjamin gave him a curt nod and a friendly smile before continuing into Washington's office.

Curious as to the news Alex had to bring, William remained close enough to hear their conversation.

"Your Excellency," his muffled voice hesitantly said. "I assume you already know of Captain Montresor's presence in camp."

"I do," he replied.

William sucked in a breath, it was the first time hearing his voice since his visit to New York. His thoughts were broken when Alex delivered the shattering news.

"It is my deepest regret to inform you... that he reported that Captain Nathan Hale was hanged this morning under charges of spying."

The room fell silent. William didn't know this Nathan Hale, but whoever he was, he must have been on assignment from Washington.

Tallmadge was the first to break, "If you would excuse me, sir." He hurriedly left the room, Will could've sworn he saw tears prickling in the Lieutenant's eyes.

He didn't even bother to finish listening to the rest of the conversation. Waiting until Alex exited the room, he motioned for Will to follow. On their way out he explained everything.

"Hale was on a direct assignment for Washington, gathering intelligence from the city. From what I know, Tallmadge and Hale were friends from Yale. I can only imagine what it is like for him."

Will only hummed in response. One loss was one too many. Hale died for his country and he wouldn't be the last. Reports of captured soldiers were still coming in, most bound for the prison ship _'The Jersey'._ Thoughts of Hercules came back, was he on one of those godforsaken ships?

William felt useless, all those men imprisoned. The only thing he could do was live and fight another day.

* * *

_White Plains, New York. October 28, 1776._

After remaining in Harlem for a month after the initial battle, the Continental forces left the site when the British did not attack again. Washington ordered the army to set defensive positions around White Plains, a small village near the opposite side of the river from Manhattan. However, the army could have never prepared for the British attack.

William saw as German Hessian mercenaries began to prepare for a bayonet charge up the hill where Hamilton was positioned.

"Captain Hamilton," he shouted running towards the officer. "The Hessians are planning an assault on our positions."

Hamilton's mind went into a frenzy drafting different plans to counter the assault. "Have the men prepare to chargeback with a counter-attack," he ordered as he pointed at positions on the map.

"No," Will said, "it won't work. There are too many Hessians, we could never hold them back in close combat."

"Then what would you have me do," he lashed out. "Because I don't see any way we can repel them."

"Use the cannons and gunners, and fire from a distance," Will argued.

"Cannons," he laughed baffled, "it won't work."

"Yes, it will. We have the advantage of high ground," pressed Will. He then pointed at strategic locations on the map. "If we place the cannons here and then angle them towards the attackers it will blow holes in their company. Our gunners can then pick off the remaining soldiers"

Hamilton went quiet for a few seconds debating the proposal. "That may work," he admitted before barking out orders to move the cannons.

When the Hessians charged, they were met by heavy cannon fire that destroyed their lines. The Americans successfully repulsed the initial assault, dealing heavy casualties to the Hessians before retreating north with the rest of the army.

Hamilton was shocked at how well Pickler's plan worked. He recognized the young soldier's potential to become a strategist or tactician. He approached his friend and asked, "How did you know it would work?"

"I know how to read a map. My father was a surveyor before he joined the army and taught me a few things here and there. I simply analyzed the situation and followed my instinct," Will answered.

"Only a few men can create such a successful stratagem in such a short time. You have the makings of a tactician," he complimented.

* * *

_Hackensack, New Jersey. November 20, 1776._

"Hey Pickler, long time no see."

Turning around William saw Hercules Mulligan walking with Alexander.

"I thought you were arrested," he replied before Hercules pulled him into a hug.

"Well, I was. But I was such a gentleman that they released me in my honor to not leave New York," the tailor said with pride.

"Herc, I really am glad to see you, but you should go back."

"What!" he exclaimed, "I just got here. Why would I want to go back to those lobsters?"

"Because..." Will started, but then stopped remembering what had happened to Nathan Hale and Tallmadge's reaction. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"What?" he asked.

"I said never mind, it's too dangerous."

"Says the person enlisted in the army."

"I'm serious, Hercules. If I tell you you'll want to do it, and I won't see my friend be killed because of a foolish idea."

Alexander caught on to William's train of thought. "It is not foolish, Herc can do it with his standing."

"We don't need another Nathan Hale," Will shot back.

"Intelligence is vital. And unlike Hale, Herc isn't an officer, he's a civilian. The British have already released him and his father-in-law is a British Admiral. He's in a perfect position."

"Spying, huh," Hercules pondered. "You know it's dangerous, and I'll be hanged if I'm caught."

"I know, that's why I said to ignore my idea. I don't want to see you executed because of this-"

"Sounds like fun," he declared. His face broke out into a grin obviously loving the idea of espionage and danger.

"Herc," Will began, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I want to play my role, and as Alex said, we need intelligence. You know as well as I, no one else will do it. I will more than gladly join the fight as a spy."

"Just... be careful. And don't get caught."

"I don't plan on doing so."

Smiling Alex excused himself to let the two friends catch up. He made his way up to General Stirling recommending that William Pickler be promoted to a Sergeant, and become his second in command. After explaining Will's actions back at White Plains, Stirling was impressed and decided to promote Pickler to Lieutenant instead. Thanking him Alex went to his friend to share the news.

* * *

_Hackensack, New Jersey. November 29, 1776._

"Fire!" yelled Captain Hamilton.

The British had decided to attack the army again, forcing Washington to retreat. But Alexander ordered his company to steadfast and fire on the enemy.

Lieutenant William Pickler shot his musket and went back to reload. He and Alexander had both agreed that engaging the British would give Washington valuable time to lead the army towards Princeton. Looking at his friend, Will laughed. Alex was once again lost in thought, patting the cannon as if it were a horse.

~~~~

Washington had safely led his army, what remained of it at least, out of New Jersey. Crossing the Delaware River into Pennsylvania, he thought back to the two men who repealed the British. He quickly penned a letter to Congress in Philadelphia writing,

_"The enemy appeared in several parties on the heights opposite Brunswick and were advancing in a large body toward the crossing place. We had two smart cannonades whilst we were parading our men."_

_General George Washington_

He then called in one of his aides and asked, "Do you know who those two soldiers were? The ones leading the company that held the British at bay."

"I do sir," the aide replied, "one was Captain Alexander Hamilton and the other I believe was his second in command, Lieutenant William Pickler."

Thanking and dismissing the aide, Washington thought about the courage and skill of the two men. He recognized Hamilton, the young man, around 20 years old, one who stole British cannons when the army was in New York. Hamilton reminded Washington of himself when he was young and dreamt of war. However, the general had never heard of the name Pickler until now, but he was sure that the young man would grow into a fine soldier.

_Morristown. December 2, 1776._

Hamilton's company finally reached the winter encampment for the rebel army. Thankfully, Hamilton was able to ensure William wouldn't have to share a tent with anyone else. Once it was set up, he wished Alex a good night before entering.

Lyn let out a sigh of relief. It was the first time in days she was able to stop pretending to be a man. She considered herself lucky that she was alive and unexposed. Her body ached for sleep, but Lyn quickly wrote a short letter to her mother claiming she was ok and safely encamped for the winter. Leaving it unsigned she folded it and hid it in her bag, where she would find a way to mail it home without drawing suspicion as to why she was writing to his Excellency's wife.

Yawning, Lyn crawled into the makeshift cot and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

_Delaware River. December 25, 1776._

Breathing in the cold winter air, William observed the light snowfall before. He watched his warm breath clash with the cold, swirling into the sky before it dispersed. He had no idea where they were going, only that he was to board a boat and cross the Delaware River. According to Hamilton, it was some secret mission but other soldiers, who huddled close under blankets, called it an 'over-glorified scouting mission'. As they crossed the fog began to lift and William could see dozens of boats filled with men. He realized that this was no scouting party, but a surprise attack.

~~~~

In another boat, a young newly promoted captain talked with his whaler friend about the mission. Like William, he saw the number of boats and came to the same conclusion that it was no scouting mission. After more rowing, a soldier announced, "We're here."

"All right, on your feet, men," the captain instructed. "Everyone, check your flints."

As the men moved the boat began to sway.

"Move back, you're tipping her," the whaler warned.

The captain oversaw the men saying, "watch those arms," before he yelled, "grab that swivel gun!" As he went to secure it, he fell overboard into the icy water.

"Ben, no! Ben" the whaler cried as he grabbed his friend's hands.

The crew began shouting "man overboard," and tried to save their commanding officer.

The captain started sinking below the river before his friend could pull him out. When the crew finally reached land, the whaler yelled for them to make a fire. His friend was shivering, barely staying awake, and he feared that Ben wouldn't make it.

* * *

_Trenton, New Jersey. December 26, 1776._

Alexander Hamilton's company led General Greene's division to the outskirts of the town overnight. Once there, Hamilton's men quickly set up the artillery around the Hessian outpost at Trenton while Greene prepared his men to charge the Germans.

It was exactly 8:00 in the morning when the young captain yelled, "Fire!"

The cannons bombarded the outpost, surprising the mercenaries, tired from their Christmas celebrations. Minutes later, Greene's infantry poured into the town capturing most Hessians before they could grab their muskets. A few had escaped and planned on regrouping and launching a counter-attack but were cut down by Hamilton's cannons.

As William stood by his cannon analyzing the field, he noticed that the Hessians managed to retrieve two cannons.

"Sir," he yelled, "the enemy has two cannons that are ready to fire on our riflemen."

Nodding, he ordered his gunners to adjust their cannons and aim at the Hessian artillery.

~~~~

General Washington watched the battle unfold on horseback. Galloping behind the gun lines he saw Hamilton, the youthful artillery captain that stalled the British back at Hackensack, New Jersey.

He then saw another man, much younger, address the captain and then point at something. Washington looked towards where he pointed and could barely make out enemy cannons. He stood there, shocked at how observant the young man was. He watched as the two ordered the cannons to move and fire on the Hessians before galloping away.

~~~~

After an hour of fighting, the Hessians surrendered. Although a large sum managed to escape, the army gained a large supply of weapons to take back across the Delaware into Pennsylvania.

William and Hamilton shared before the later said, "Excellent job at noticing those cannons. I don't think I would have seen them."

"It was nothing," William replied, trying to avoid a large sum of praise.

"Nonsense," the captain said, putting his hand on Will's shoulder, "if they had fired before you noticed, they could have destroyed our riflemen." He then continued, "I know you're being modest but you have a talent at observing and finding clever solutions to problems. The talent a tactician needs."

"You keep saying that," William responded.

"It's true," said Alex. "Your talents could be a considerable asset to the army."

* * *

_Assunpink Creek. January 2, 1777._

After the rebel victory in Trenton, General Cornwallis sent British grenadiers to retaliate. But Washington had deflected all his attacks and now the armies camped at opposite banks of Assunpink Creek.

Washington convened a council of war, gathering all his high ranking officers, to assess the situation.

"It is impractical to defend the creek, but a retreat to the South is imprudent," announced General Greene.

"What if we continue with the original plan?" suggested another officer, "we strike deeper into New Jersey."

"We would need the element of surprise to launch a successful attack. And with the British spread all over New Jersey that element is lost," Greene shot back.

"Not all of New Jersey," Knox said, "The British have left the road to Princeton unguarded."

All the officers looked towards the Commander-in-Chief.

"We leave in three hours," he instructed, "leave the rear guard at the banks to maintain fires and dig noisily through the night while the rest of the army marches to Princeton."

~~~~

Lyn was woken up at the sound of someone knocking on her tent.

Quickly deepening her voice she asked, "who is it?"

"Me," replied Alexander. "Listen we have to go soon, Washinton's moving the army, he said something about going to Princeton."

Minutes later, Lyn came out of the tent as William Pickler. Supplies in hand, he mounted Gemma and joined what remained of the company on the march to Princeton. The movement required stealth, but the cannon wheels were loud and could give away the army's location. Knowing they needed the artillery, William thought how they could silence the wheels. It came to him and he directed Gemma towards Alex.

"The cannons are too loud," Will said bluntly.

"I'm well aware of that, but we can't just leave them," he grumbled

"I know, that's why we muffle the wheels."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Wrap rags around the wheels. That way the cannons are still portable but the cloth will muffle the noise."

After pondering his suggestion, Alex ordered the men to cover the wheels. The rags worked, and the company silently made their way to Princeton.

Alexander made his way to the architect of the plan and joked, "Another clever idea from William Pickler."

~~~~

After days of slipping in and out of consciousness Captain Benjamin Tallmadge woke up. After his friend, Caleb Brewster, informed him that the men went on Trenton, the two made their way there and found the rear guard.

"Cornwallis is camped 'cross that creek with all his boys," the soldier explained as they walked into the fake camp.

"Where are the rest of ours?" Tallmadge asked.

"Washington marched them off an hour ago real quiet-like. Took some local cut-through to Princeton," he answered.

"Then what the hell are we still doing here?" asked Caleb.

"Look alive, boys," the soldier said, pointing across the creek to the British camp.

"Oh, so we're the decoys," Ben answered understanding Washington's strategy. He then helped the rest of the rear guard fool the British.

* * *

_Princeton, New Jersey. January 3, 1777._

After marching through the night, Hamilton's company finally made it to Princeton at sunrise.

However, they were greeted by 700 British light infantry soldiers and Hamilton's men quickly ran to the high ground. While they ran, American troops began engaging the British.

While the men prepared the cannons, William watched as the Americans and British fought. The Continentals were outnumbered for the rest of the army and Washington was still en route. Then the British launched a bayonet charge, forcing the opponents to retreat. Terrible outcomes plagued William's head, if the American's failed here, it could mean the end of the war.

~~~~

Washington galloped into the battlefield, with a division of Pennsylvania militia behind him, and saw the retreating soldiers. He quickly began barking out orders to stabilize the situation, instructing the Pennsylvanian soldiers to shoot at the British. Instead of retreating to a safer area he directed the musket fire and watched as the additional troops began to overwhelm the British.

~~~~

William saw his father giving out orders, admiring how he effortlessly regained control of the battle. He was taken aback when his father directed the soldiers, fear grew within him as he prayed he wouldn't see his father die.

"Lieutenant Pickler!" yelled Hamilton, "stop staring at the field and prepare to fire."

William scolded himself for not being aware of his immediate surroundings and ran towards his cannon.

"Fire!" ordered Hamilton.

The fierce cannon fire in addition to the new forces on the ground overpowered the British. They surrendered or fled not long afterward. Smiling William looked for his father and was relieved to see him on horseback shouting, "It is a fine fox chase, my boys!"

* * *

_Morristown, New Jersey. January 6, 1777._

The twin victories in New Jersey raised the army's morale. Soldiers clapped and cheered as Washington walked through camp. He nodded and acknowledged the mob, but he was looking for two specific people: Captain Alexander Hamilton and Lieutenant William Pickler. He wanted to praise their actions on the field until he learned that the company was still making its way back to camp. Slightly disappointed, the general entered his headquarters greeted by the chanting of his officers.

"Trenton, Princeton Jersey's ours again!" they sang over and over again.

When they noticed the general enter they applauded him as he made his way to a separate room where Captain Benjamin Tallmadge waited. It was his intelligence that secured two major victories for the army after countless defeats.

Shrugging off his cloak as he entered, Washington sat down at his desk and asked the captain, "Now, just who is Abraham Woodhull?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Benjamin Tallmadge was in the room when Hamilton brought the information about Hale's death. So I changed a few things... again. BUT! This is the last official re-written chapter, which is fantastic news for me. I will edit a bit of chapters 6 and 7 but only a few lines of dialogue to make everything flow.
> 
> More good news, my Anthropology final is today, meaning once I take it I'm done until the fall semester which is in like 2 weeks. So I have two weeks of no band camp or school to write. YAY! My goal (which I have no idea if I'll reach) is to finish season 1 up. I've already got google docs set up with transcripts from the episodes so it shouldn't be that bad.


	5. Captain Pickler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 10, 2020
> 
> A.N. Re-writing is done y'all! I changed some of the dialogue but that's it. It somehow turned into a nearly 8,000 words chapter, but I don't think any of you will complain. I'm not touching chapter 7, not yet at least. Maybe sometime in the far future, but I want to get back to publishing new chapters. Not writing futures ones or fixing old ones. 

_Morristown, New Jersey. January 11, 1777._

"Happy birthday Alex," Will congratulated. He sat next to the captain at the fire before continuing, "Twenty years old and you're in command of a regiment you raised. Not many many men can accomplish so much at a young age."

"You're one to talk, Pickler," he laughed. "You're still sixteen and already have an officer position."

"You're the one who gave it to me!" Will playfully argued.

"Captain Hamilton," a stoic voice interrupted.

The two turned around meeting the face of General Greene.

"Sir," they both said quickly standing up.

"At ease," he calmed them. "I want to extend an invitation to you, captain."

"An invitation?" Alexander replied.

"To dinner at his Excellency's headquarters tomorrow night. He has wanted to meet you for some time."

"Of course sir. I will be there."

"Good Day gentlemen," the general said before leaving them.

"Your father wishes to meet me," Alex whispered.

"You must have done something to get his attention. Perhaps your reputation on the battlefield?" Will teased.

"You and I both know it wasn't just me."

"Yes, but don't tell him that."

Alex looked at his friend quizzically. "And why not?"

"Because I don't need my name thrown around. If he hears my role he'll probably want to meet me too. That cannot happen," he hissed before saying calmly, "If he sees me." Will paused looking away from Alex, "He'll... he'll recognize me in an instant."

"No, he _might_ recognize you," Alex corrected. "You've disguised yourself in this army for months. Nobody has found out besides a select few."

"You did," Will retorted.

"Yes, but that was before all this. Your disguise is much more convincing, your voice sounds natural, and again no one has suspected a thing."

"Actually, one person has," Will revealed. Noticing Alex's face full of panic he quickly said, '"it's ok we can trust him."

"And who is him?" Alex pressed.

"Aaron Burr, he found out when we fled New York, must have gotten a good glimpse during the night. He confronted me the next day, but swore to keep my secret."

"You're only telling me this now!"

"Yes, because I didn't want you to worry."

"I am worrying, but his deduction was from a slip-up. You've gotten better at blending in ever since. Don't worry about your father right now."

"Alright. Just don't talk about Pickler," Will compromised.

* * *

_Morristown Headquarters. January 12, 1777._

In the wake of twin victories, a surge of enlistments came forward. Although it was good for the army, Washington became swamped with paperwork. In four months, nearly 300 of his officers were captured or dead, leaving holes in the army's chain of command.

"Sir," said General Greene, "how is your encampment here?"

"At present," Washington complained, "my time is so taken up at my desk that I am obliged to neglect many other essential parts of my duty."

"I'm sure there are plenty of men who can aid you in such trivial tasks," Greene offered, thinking of Captain Hamilton.

"It is absolutely necessary for me to have persons who can think for me as well as execute orders. As to military knowledge, I do not expect to find gentlemen much skilled in it. If they can write a good letter, write quick, are methodical and diligent, it is all I expect to find in my aides."

Before Greene could respond, Hamilton entered the headquarters. "I apologize for my tardiness, Your Excellency," he said.

"General Washington, this is Captain Alexander Hamilton of the New York Provincial Company of Artillery. A unit he raised himself," introduced Greene. "I invited him here tonight."

"Ah, yes, Captain Hamilton," the General said as he stood up and offered his hand. "I've heard about your valor at Trenton, and I watched you back in Hackensack, fending off the British while the army made its escape."

"Thank you, sir, but it wasn't all my doing. Lieutenant Pickler played a substantial role in my company's actions. I trust him with my life, sir." Alex knew Will didn't want his name known, but Alex couldn't take credit that wasn't his.

"I see, pardon my intrusion captain but may I ask how old are you?" Washington was curious, the man could not be over the age of 25.

"Sir?" Hamilton asked confused.

"You're quite young to be a captain. I do not mean it as an offense, it is simple curiosity."

"I turned twenty yesterday sir."

Washington saw a bit of himself in the young captain. He was around Hamilton's age when he began his military career so long ago. Smiling he said, "I would like you to join my staff as an aide-de-camp."

"I- yes sir!" Alex answered excitedly. He couldn't believe what had happened. He had worked his whole life to be here, to be in a respected position.

"Excellent," Washington said, interrupting his thoughts. "You will officially join my staff on the first of March."

Ambition got the better of Alex when he asked, "Sir, may I inquire about my new rank?"

"What, the honor is not enough?" Washington asked, slightly taken aback. He was astounded by this man's ambition but silently admired him for it.

"I think it only proper sir, in view of the work that I have the same rank as your other aides, Lieutenant Colonel."

"And you would have me jump you two ranks at barely twenty years of age Captain Hamilton?"

"Yes sir, because I will prove my worth to you."

Washington thought about this man standing in front of him. Here was a man who wasn't afraid to seek opportunity. "When I was your age," he began, "I asked Governor Dinwiddie to make me adjutant of the Virginia Regiment and he said I gall enough for twice my age. I finally meet a man with equal gall, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton."

Before Hamilton could express his thanks the general added, "You will officially receive your rank when you join us on March first. Now, since you trust Lieutenant Pickler, he will assume command of your regiment."

Hamilton froze, he forgot to think about Will. He couldn't leave his friend, who wasn't even seventeen to command the regiment. Alex also needed to keep him safe, to ensure his secret remained a secret. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but Hamilton didn't want his friend on the field at all. He knew Will (Lyn) wouldn't forgive him easily for this but Alex went forward and said, "I'm sorry sir, but I don't think he should be in command."

"And why is that," Washington asked. "You said it yourself, you trust him with your life."

"I do dir, but he's not even seventeen."

Washington looked up, Hamilton's second in command was sixteen. Something wasn't adding up the boy showed something to Hamilton to become his second in command at such a young age. But Hamilton, who was young himself, didn't want him in command.

"Why are you against this," he asked. "You grasp for opportunity at a young age, and yet you deny him the same chance?"

Alex relented and answered honestly, "He's young sir, and I promised myself I would look out for him. We became friends at King's College, I see him as my younger brother."

Washington's face softened as he understood the future aide's plight. He had a few officers he saw as sons, and would do anything to keep them off the field.

"Then what would you have me do, Hamilton?"

"If I may suggest sir, I would recommend he become a tactician. He has an excellent mind, it was he who saw the cannons and figured out the Hessian plan at Trenton. When marching to Princeton, he found a clever solution to muffle the sound of the cannons that would have alerted the British of our movements. And at White Plains, he proposed a different tactic, in place of another one, that repelled a Hessian charge."

Washington listened to his explanation of Pickler's actions and his arguments of why Pickler should be a tactician.

"Very well," Washington said as Hamilton desperately continued to defend his argument.

Hamilton stopped, "what? Does this mean..."

"It does," Washington confirmed. "However, given his young age, I would like him to work with other branches that contribute to planning, such as intelligence. Bring him here tomorrow so we can discuss the details of _Captain_ Pickler's new position."

"Thank you, sir!" Hamilton grinned. He left the headquarters satisfied with his actions.

* * *

Alex approached his friend's tent and said, "It's me"

"Come in," Lyn answered. When Alex entered Lyn asked, "So what did my father want?"

"He wanted me to join his staff as aide-de-camp," he said with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"What did you say?"

"Yes, of course."

Lyn hugged her friend saying, "I'm so happy for you." Soon alarm spread through her and she asked, "wait, what will become of the company?"

"Well at first, he wanted you to take command," he answered sheepishly, knowing she wouldn't like the next part. "But I convinced him to make you a tactician instead."

"You did WHAT!" she explained, trying to keep her voice down so others wouldn't hear.

"Listen, I didn't want you on the field without me."

"Without you! Alexander, I'm not a child, I don't need supervision."

"I know," he said looking down at the ground," but I couldn't bear to think about you getting hurt while I work for the general. Speaking of him, he wants to meet you tomorrow to discuss your new role."

Lyn began to panic, her father wanted to see her. 'He would find out in a heartbeat', she thought. "Damn it Hamilton!" she yelled while maintaining a quiet voice, "He will see me, and figure out it's me. It's over."

"Lyn, I am sorry, I just couldn't let you die on the battlefield," he said trying to make amends

Lyn knew deep down he was just trying to help her, but she was too angry at him to keep talking. "Just, please leave," she said.

"Lyn, I-"

"Not now, ok."

Defeated, Hamilton walked towards the flap and looked back at her again. "I'm sorry, but what I did, I did for you. I hope you forgive me," he said solemnly before leaving the tent.

* * *

_Morristown Headquarters. January 13, 1777._

Lyn's mind was in a panic, her father would be here at any moment. Pushing away the negative thoughts, Lyn remained calm and did everything she could to convince the general that it was William Pickler who stood before him. Alexander shifted uncomfortably under his friend's glare but stopped when the sound footsteps echoed from the hallway.

His Excellency entered the room, and Will breathed in a small gasp. It was the first time he saw his father since he left Mount Vernon. While his father stood tall and proud, Will could see the stress and tiredness in his eyes.

"You must be Lieutenant Pickler," Washington said, "Your friend, Hamilton has told me all about you."

"Did he sir."

"Yes, and I assume you know the reason why you are here."

"I was told that you wanted to discuss my role of being a tactician."

"Yes, from what he has told me and what I have seen during battle, you have excellent promise. But, you are still young, sixteen if I am not mistaken." Washington looked at him for confirmation of his age and Will nodded his head. The general then continued, "Because of your age, I have decided to let you become an assistant of some sort until you have proven you have enough experience to become a tactician."

"I understand sir," Will said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "What will you have me do?"

"Tomorrow, report here. You will meet General Scott and Captain Tallmadge, the one who uncovered intelligence that made out victory possible. You are to help them establish this chain of intelligencers and uncover any flaws in the proposed ring that would harm the army. "You are also to complete any tasks that Hamilton assigns you."

"Yes, sir."

_‘Tallmadge,’ he thought. ‘So he was the one who got us the intelligence. Perhaps he was inspired by Hale?’_

"Good, Captain Pickler, Colonel Hamilton you are dismissed."

Will was confused and once the two had left the building he pulled his friend aside and said, "Captain?"

"I forgot to mention that," Alex said, slightly embarrassed. "His Excellency promoted me to Lieutenant Colonel and you to Captain."

Sighing Will finally said, "I apologize for yelling at you. You were only looking out for me."

"And I'm sorry for going against your wishes," Alex replied before saying in a much happier voice, "But the good news is your father didn't recognize you."

"Yes, but he didn't look at me a whole lot," he laughed.

* * *

When the two men left, Washington slumped in his chair. He kept picturing William's face and couldn't help but notice the small similarities between the new captain and his daughter. He swore they looked alike, they were around the same age and both attended King's College. His daughter had run away to fight, but she wouldn't have gone anywhere near him, she was too smart to allow herself to be caught. Besides, Hamilton said he and William were friends at King's College. That was why Pickler joined his regiment.

Sighing, Washington rubbed his hand down his face. _'William is not Gwen,'_ he thought, _'I'm only seeing the similarities because I miss her. That's all.'_ Putting his mind slightly at ease Washington resumed his work, the army needed him right now.

* * *

_Morristown, New Jersey. January 14, 1777_

“The prisoner exchange was carried through this morning, Excellency,” Tench Tilghman reported.

“And what is the condition of our returned?” General Washington asked from his horse, looking at his pocket watch that read 9:55.

“Very poor, sir. Some are unable to walk owing to starvation. It confirms Captain Gamble's account... The enemy treat our captured with brutality while we protect theirs according to protocol,” he answered angrily.

Putting the watch in his coat, Washington dismounted his horse. Billy, who had accompanied the general from Mount Vernon, took the reins while Washington walked with the soldier. As they walked Washington instructed the man to draft a letter,

“To Lord Howe. I am sorry to trouble Your Lordship with a letter almost wholly on the subject of the barbaric treatment our officers received onboard your prison ship in New York Harbor." Washington paused before instructing his aide-de-camp, “Prepare a copy of Captain Gamble's account. I want it enclosed.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

Washington then returned to the letter saying, "I call upon Your Lordship to say if our treatment of your men had merited so severe a retaliation,” as the soldier scribbled down his words on a piece of parchment.

Stopping at the medical tent, Washington entered to see the condition of the soldiers while his lifeguard and Tilghman remained outside.

“How many?” the general asked the doctor

“Another 6 sir,” he reported

Looking back to his watch, Washington saw it was 9:58. The words of his brother echoed through his mind, _“Be mindful of time”_ His thoughts were interrupted when a sick soldier called out for him.

Looking up, he saw a man suffering from smallpox rasping, “General.”

He approached the bed of the ill soldier who tried to cover his face with a cloth. Stopping him, Washington removed the cloth saying, “at ease brother. Smallpox had its chance at me and failed. How can I be of service to you?”

The ailing soldier weakly whispered, “scarf,” and pulled out a red scarf. “My..wife sent it to me. I need it… I need it to be sent to her,” he managed to say before coughing.

Trying to comfort the young man Washington replied, “fine stitching, very fine.”

The soldier began coughing again. Washington, who had the pox as a teenager, knew what sufferings the disease could bring. Placing a hand on the soldier’s head as he coughed, Washington knew the man was sick due to his horrid time on ' _The Jersey'_. He got up, filled with anger towards the British, and took the scarf before heading out of the tent.

Stopping at the tent flap, he turned to the doctor and handed him the scarf saying, “have this burned.” He couldn’t allow the disease filled cloth infect others, despite the soldier’s wishes the health of the army was of great importance.

Storming out of the tent Washington approached the soldier writing the letter to Howe. “Strike barbaric, change to cruel,” he instructed before continuing to walk. “And make a note to request Howe’s proper inquiry into the matter. He may call us rebels but as rebels we will if forced to it, retaliate upon those who we look as unjust invaders of our rights.”

Washington approached his headquarters where General Scott and Captain Tallmadge awaited him.

“Absent without leave, falsifying intelligence, insubordination,” General Scott began,” I want you to know, Captain, I plan to leave nothing out of my report.”

“Wouldn't expect you to, sir,” the captain replied. “Though you should know, I already told the commander everything I did.”

Seeing Washington approach, Ben took off his helmet while General Scott said, “Well, then likely your punishment's been decided and we've merely been called here to see it carried out.”

Meeting with the two officers, Washington looks at his watch again. Noting the time, he silently moved next to Ben and faced the soldier about to be hung.

As a bell tolled, signaling it was 10:00, a soldier read,” The accused, John Herring, having been convicted of breaking into the house of Mr. Prince Howland and robbing him of several spoons, silver dollars, and wearing apparel, has been sentenced to suffer death.” As he read another soldier removed Herring’s coat and wrapped the noose around his neck. “His Excellency, the commander in chief, approves this sentence as an example made to deter the boldest and most hardened offenders.”

Herring looked defiantly at Washington as the cart he stood on slowly rolled away. The sound of him choking filled the air as his body swung back and forth. Ben stood watching, taken aback at the punishment.

Looking away, Washington said to the two, “Shall we?”

Entering the headquarters, Washington took off his gloves and pulled out a chair. General Scott took notice of the figure in another room writing at a desk.

Seeing General Scott’s convulsion Washington explained, “This is Mr. Nathaniel Sackett of the Committee to Detect and Defeat Conspiracies against America.”

“Sir,” Scott protested, “the presence of a civilian at a court-martial is highly irregular.”

“Yes, I agree, Charles. Now, would you be so kind as to brief the room on the intelligence uncovered at Trenton?” he requested.

“Brief the room?” Scott asked, slightly offended.

“Myself included,” Washington replied nonchalantly.

Clearing his throat Scott began his briefing. “ An examination of orders discovered in the desk of Colonel Rall suggests that the garrison we took from the Hessians was much more than a winter camp. Trenton was being prepared as a launch point for an attack on Philadelphia.”

“I know what Howe wants. But how will Howe take it?” Washington asked himself as he examined the map on the table with a magnifying glass. “By land,” he said before ripping a piece of paper. “By sea,” he continued placing the paper on the map. “or will he lunge north to join forces with Burgoyne so as to decapitate New England from the rest of our colonies?” he finished, slamming a rook chess piece on the map.

“We have until the snow melts before their forces in New York begin to move,” he continued before looking up at the two men in front of him. “New York. Which remains dark to us.”

“Sir,” Scott reassured, “I have just dispatched new scouts to observe the enemy.”

“I grow weary of contradictory accounts that merely guess at the intent of the enemy,” Washington interrupted annoyed at the lack of intelligence. He turned to Ben, “This letter written by your man on Long Island…”

“That letter was not received through the proper channels,” Scott argued.

“Which is why I paid it no mind,” Washington replied. “It was a lone report and unconfirmed until our victories at Trenton and Princeton proved it accurate.”

“More accurate than any piece of intelligence we received thus far, at least,” added Mr. Sackett.

“Gentlemen,” Washington addressed. “I've asked you here today to determine if this was a fluke and, perhaps more importantly if this fluke can be repeated.”

“I can assure you, sir, you will be perfectly convinced of my friend's integrity and loyalty,” Captain Tallmadge promised.

“Well, according to you, he took an oath of loyalty to King George,” General Scott retorted.

“Only to get closer to the enemy,” Ben emphasized, “to learn their secrets.”

“Traditional military reconnaissance is a proven discipline. Multiple scouts produce multiple reports which may be cross-referenced to ensure verification,” Scott argued, “In addition, soldiers are trained to recognize…”

“Actually, soldiers make terrible spies,” Mr. Sackett interrupted. “All that discipline drilled into their movements makes them easy to spot, unlike us civilians.”

“Excuse me, sir, but why exactly are you in this room?” Scott criticized.

“I've been invited here by your commander in chief to opine on the business at hand,” he explained.

“Mr. Sackett came to us by way of William Duer, who recommended him as a person of intrigue and secrecy,” Washington avouched.

“And I must say, I find this young man's chain of agents very intriguing,” Mr. Sackett complimented before returning to his desk.

“I want this chain notion explored and a unified recommendation presented upon my return. Captain William Pickler will be joining you later today after he finishes his work for our future aide, Alexander Hamilton. He has highly recommended Pickler as a tactician for the army. This will serve as a test of his abilities and to discover any unseen problems with this chain,” Washington explained. “Any questions?”

Ben, unsure of how to address the question on his mind said, “I... Well, yes, Your Excellency. The letter that I transcribed regarding the Hessians and Trenton. It was unsigned. I mean to ask, how did you come by the name Abraham Woodhull?”

“Excellent question,” Washington replied. “Any for you, Mr. Sackett?”

“Plenty, but not for you, sir,” he answered.

“Very well,” with that Washington left the three to begin their assignment.

* * *

Over the next few hours, Ben explained how his ring worked. "So she then hangs a black petticoat on a drying line to signal to my courier when the intelligence is ready," he explained.

"Not bad," Mr. Sackett complimented.

Suddenly, Washington and another man entered the room. "Gentlemen," the former said. "This is Captain Pickler, he will be aiding you. Now if you excuse me, I must complete my other duties." Washington immediately exited the building leaving William with the others.

Unsure of what to say, Pickler remained silent. Noticing his uneasiness, Ben quickly jumped in, "It is nice to meet you again, I must congratulate you on your promotion.”

“Likewise,” the younger Captain replied.

Ben continued, “I hear that you are the one that made sure our attack didn’t backfire."

Mr. Sackett perked up and quickly added, "The one who noticed the hidden Hessian cannons."

"Yes sir," William answered before looking at Ben, "thank you, but I don't deserve as much credit as you give me. If it wasn't for your intelligence we would have never had a battle."

"Ah yes, intelligence," Mr. Sackett remembered, "Now your signal hangs a black petticoat"

"Yes," Ben answered as General Scott resumed his pacing. "And she hangs napkins to signify which cove is safe for the rendezvous."

Sackett looked up, "Wait, wait. Rendezvous? Don't tell me your agent meets your courier in person?"

"Oh, well, of course," Ben answered, confused at Mr. Sackett's response.

"Failure. Death," Mr. Sackett said bluntly. "No, no, no. Courier and agent are never in the same place at the same time."

"Well, then how do you expect for them to make the transfer?"

"You can leave the information for the courier to find," William answered, looking to Mr. Sackett seeking verification of his answer.

"Exactly," The man answered. "You predetermine the location to drop, _id est_ , hide the _lettre confidentielle_ in question," he sighed, approaching a grandfather clock. "And then arrange a later time for retrieval. A dead drop," he laughed, placing the paper inside the clock and locking the cabinet. "To ensure your agents don't drop dead from being caught in flagrante delicto," he finished explaining while setting the hands of the clock.

Will noticed the fellow captain writing down notes like a schoolboy and smirked to himself.

"Which demonstrates the folly of this scheme," General Scott criticized. "If a single link is broken, the entire chain is rendered useless."

"Which is why we use encryption, sir," Mr. Sackett explained. "To shield the men, not the message. Now Captain Pickler," he said, switching the topic. "I've been told you have the qualities of a tactician, how you analyze the field and find the best course of action."

"Yes sir," he responded.

"I'm assuming you use intelligence to create a plan and then adjust when new information comes to light. Such as Trenton, the plan never included Hessian cannons, thus why you noticed when something didn't add up."

"Uh... no sir."

"What do you mean no?"

"Hamilton plans, what I've done was never asked of me," William explained. "I never used intelligence, we rarely receive any, to begin with. I only analyzed the field and noticed small things that gave away the enemy's plan."

"So you don't plan in advance," Mr. Sackett cried. "The whole point of a tactician is to create tactics before battle."

"With all due respect sir, one can not plan if there is no intelligence," Willaim defended. "And I believe an important part of being a tactician is being able to be flexible. If a plan is too structured, then it leaves no room for changes in circumstances. Our information could be wrong and cause us to change our entire tactic. I was able to guess the British's plan from their movements alone and devise a way to repel them."

Mr. Sackett considered Will's words before responding, "And you do this in the moment."

"Yes sir, we're in battle," William stated. "There's no time to fully plan something out, I observe and follow the best course of action."

Mr. Sackett was annoyed at his response. "You mean you use guesswork and act on impulse and instinct. Your actions are risky, you place too much trust in your own judgment," he criticized. "Do you even consult your commanding officer?"

"Yes sir, and he agrees with me," William replied, trying to sound self-confident. Sackett's words made him realize his previous actions were quite a gamble, risking so many lives and possibly the battle. Self-doubt began plaguing his mind, but thankfully Sackett turned his attention to another.

"Captain Tallmadge," Sackett began, trying to regain his composure. "Which enciphering method have you been using thus far? Rossignol? Trithemius? Personally, I prefer Dumas."

Ben went quiet, not knowing how to respond. He saw how Sackett acknowledged Captain Pickler's mistakes and wondered how he would respond to his.

Sackett looked up, dread covering his face. "Please tell me you're using encryption." Ben's silence told him all he needed. "My God. I was told you were a graduate of Yale," he said before turning to Will, "and you were a student at King's College."

"Yes, sir. Class of '73," Ben said with a sliver of pride in his voice.

"I started in '75 and remained until the college closed," Will answered, looking down slightly embarrassed. He never had the opportunity to complete his studies and felt inferior to the other highly educated men.

"Hmm," Sackett grumbled. "One supposes you've studied Greek, Latin, Hebrew Captain Tallmadge?"

"Nai. Certe. Chen-adon," he answered. "And I am a quick study, Mr. Sackett."

"As am I sir," Will added, hoping his aptitude for learning would make up for his lack of higher education.

"Then at least we have somewhere to start, especially for you Captain Pickler, since you never had the opportunity to complete your studies," Sackett announced pulling out a book. "Commit this to memory. I'm sorry I only have one so you'll have to share."

"We don't have time for this," General Scott interrupted. "The commander expects results, not wordplay."

"But we're ahead of the game, thanks to Captain Tallmadge here," Sackett exclaimed at the two captains looked at the codebook, "Typically, I have to concoct a legend for the agents I wish to embed into enemy territory. A poultry trader, fishmonger, schoolteacher. Requires wardrobe, documentation, training," he listed. "The brilliance of Mr. Woodhull is his life is his legend. There's no reason to invent a false one. He's already living it."

"Who pays for it?" Scott asked

"Hmm?"

"Well, if the farmer's not farming, who provides for his expenses?" the general inquired. "His food, his lodging? His money to bribe sources?"

"We do, of course," Sackett replied nonchalantly.

"The Congress will never approve intelligencer salaries while we cobble together bounties for our regulars," the general scoffed.

"Congress needn't know about it," Sackett argued, taking note of General Scott's expression. "We'll draw from a secret fund authorized by Washington to be used at our discretion."

Irritated at the man's response, the general stood up and walked away.

"General, please. We've been asked to explore how a chain of agents might work. Some debate is to be expected," Ben reasoned.

"If we want to make this work we'll need to explore all aspects and we need multiple viewpoints to tweak the flaws," Will added.

"Explore whatever you want, Tallmadge. As the head of intelligence, I will never approve this," the general huffed, grabbing his hat. "It's time that you learned how the chain of command works," he yelled before leaving and slamming the door.

"Hmm," Sackett said, not surprised at the general's ungracious exit. "That was predictable."

Ben closed the codebook and looked towards Will, who simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

* * *

_Morristown. January 15, 1777._

"What, you know them all, trust them all?" Mr. Sackett asked, pulling an egg from a boiling pot.

"We all grew up together," Ben answered.

"Childhood friends. Fascinating," Mr. Sackett mused. "Wouldn't have thought to try that."

"Well, it wasn't exactly planned," Ben confessed

"Don't tell anyone that," he hushed. "Don't tell anyone else Mr. Woodhull's name. Time to gift Mr. Woodhull an alias. One by which the other agents will know him," Sackett explained, as he began to write on the egg with a mysterious liquid.

"I'm sorry, the other agents?" Ben asked.

"Hmm, I've plans for your farmer," Mr. Sackett revealed. "Need him to nurture the seeds I've planted over the last year and a half. One of them is sprouting right now, right under the enemy's nose," he said, referencing 'Lieutenant Terrence' who has infiltrated John André's inner circle.

"I... no, I'm sorry," Ben protested. "But I'm afraid that's not how this is going to work. You see, Abe, he's a very cautious man. He won't meet with anybody he doesn't already know."

"He'll have to," Sackett ordered.

"No, he'll quit is what he'll do."

"I thought he was your friend."

"Yes, which is exactly why he trusts me to protect him. "

"Only that which is concealed is protected. You can't even conceal his name," Sackett countered, tossing the egg to Ben. "Luckily for you, I am a master at the art of concealment."

Confused, Ben examined the egg, only to find no trace of the liquid. Breaking the shell, he found "Mr. W" written on the white of the egg.

"Ah and here comes Pickler. I suggest you two get to know each other, I must attend to something." Mr. Sackett then left Ben as he walked to another area of the camp.

"Captain Tallmadge, good to see you," Will greeted. "Where is Mr. Sackett going?"

"Likewise," he answered. "As for Mr. Sackett, I don't know he said he had something to attend to.

"Hmph, of course, he did," Will quipped, obviously still reeling in last night's events. While he still respected Mr. Sackett, he felt a slight bitterness towards the man after his criticism of him and Captain Tallmadge.

"But," Ben continued, snapping Will out of his thoughts. "He did suggest that we learn more about each other since we may be working together in the future. And our last meeting was, well..." he trailed off remembering what happened that day.

Will caught on, “I am sorry to hear about your friend. And I can see that you rather not talk about it.”

Ben perked up. How could someone so young, be able to read people so well?

Deciding now was the best time to switch the subject, Will asked, "Where are you from?"

"Setauket, Long Island. And you?"

William hesitated for a moment, he didn't want to lie but it was necessary to maintain his cover. "Rowan, North Carolina," he answered.

"That's a long journey," Ben remarked. "Why did you join Hamilton's regiment up in New York?"

"Before the war, I was able to convince my parents to let me attend King's College instead of William and Mary," Will began. He took notice of his fellow captain's confused face. "New York was far more appealing than Virginia, and I wanted to put distance between myself and my parents," he explained watching Ben nod in understanding. "I met Alex there and we became fast friends and he introduced me to what was happening in the Revolution and later raised his own artillery provincial company in New York. When the college closed I went back home but knew I didn't belong. My parents would never agree to me joining the Continental Army, so I ran away. And to put a large amount of distance between me and them; I came to New York and joined Alex's regiment," He finished.

It wasn't a complete lie. He had only left his reason for leaving slightly vague to let Tallmadge come to his own conclusions, but it didn't stop the small pang of guilt from hitting. He felt horrible for starting their friendship with a lie.

"That's quite the story."

 _"Oh,"_ Lyn thought, _"if only you knew the whole story."_

"Might I ask, how old are you? You seem fairly young," Ben observed.

"I'll be 17 this February."

"That young and already a Captain," Ben complimented, astonished at what he accomplished already.

"Yes, I'm quite surprised myself," Will answered honestly.

"What made you join the Revolution at such a young age?"

“To give you some context, when Alex first came to New York, a tailor by the name Hercules Mulligan took him under his wing. He influenced Alex’s views on the revolution. Alex introduced himself to me and later to Hercules, I started sharing their views. The first time I actually got involved was when I was 15. I suppose you’ve heard about Hamilton’s adventure stealing cannons?

“I have,” he nodded.

“I told him I wanted to help and he said ‘no’. So instead I snuck out from the campus and participated myself. After that, I knew I wanted to continue the fight.”

Ben’s eyes widened. At 15 William took part in a dangerous mission to steal cannons. Proceeded to run away from home to continue to fight and now nearly 17 is a Captain. Ben chuckled to himself.

“What is so funny Captain Tallmadge?”

"Please, call me Ben. If we are to work together I feel formalities are hardly necessary," he insisted.

"Only as long as you call me Will," the teenager smirked.

“To answer your question, I was laughing at how I behaved at your age. I didn’t have the opportunity to steal cannons, but my friends and I managed to break windows at Yale,” his smile faltered again, remembering Nathan hurt.

“If you don’t want to discuss it further-”

“No,” Ben interrupted. “It hurts, but talking about him… helps in a way.” Ben again looked at the blonde teenager, who was only an inch or two shorter. In their short conversation, Will had managed to get him to talk and think about Nathan more than he had in months. He had this effect that somehow made it… easier.

Ben stopped walking and turned the young Captain, “You remind me of him. Forgive me if this is intrusive, but have you ever lost someone?”

“Yes, my sister. Well half-sister, but I never saw her as such.”

"What happened?"

"I was thirteen, my half-sister, Patsy from my mother's first marriage, was seventeen," Will recalled. "For the last five years of her life, she was plagued by seizures. There was one summer where she would have as many as two a day. My father, mother, or my half-brother would have to be at her side constantly. One day I heard a thud in her room, I went to investigate and found her shaking on the ground. I called for my parents, who summoned the doctor but it was too late. She died in my father's arms." Will looked down, it was still a painful memory.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Will brushed off. "As time goes on, it's easier to accept and move on. I try to remember that she’s in a better place, that she no longer suffers."

"How do you move on?” He asked quietly. “I’m sorry if this is all so forward, but you seem to understand better than anyone else I’ve met for some reason.”

“I wanted to forget, but I couldn’t. My sister’s memory is all that remains now and forgetting about her, about what happened would diminish it. So I try to remember and relive all the good memories I had with her.”

Ben gestured for them to resume walking, back to Sackett’s cart. The majority of their walk was silent. Ben mingled over William’s words, perhaps it was his similarity to Nathan that made it so easy for him to talk to. Maybe it was because he was less familiar with him there was no underlying pity. Whatever the reason William had helped him begin to accept and move on not only from Nathan’s death but from his brother’s as well.

"I'm assuming you can't tell me a whole lot about your intelligence line, but I am curious about how you recruited them." Will struck up their conversation again.

"They are childhood friends. We grew up together so we already had a sense of trust between us."

"I see."

_‘Trust,’ Will thought._

The two continued to talk and a great friendship was beginning to form. But it didn't stop the guilt from entering Will's heart. He hated lying to Ben, their entire conversation had lies riddled within it. If he ever found out, Will didn't know if he would ever forgive him, especially after their very open conversation.

* * *

Night had fallen, and General Scott, Captains Tallmadge and Pickler, and Mr. Sackett were still debating over the best course of action. The door then opened, Washington entered the room shrugging off his cloak and hat.

"General, have we come to a consensus?" he inquired.

General Scott, being the head of intelligence ignored the other's opinions stating, "Your Excellency, we believe traditional reconnaissance is the way forward as it depends on as little variable as possible and would be carried out by men who could be trusted to follow orders."

At the mention of "we believe" Will subtly rolled his eyes at the comment. Ben, however, noticed and suppressed a grin at the young man's action.

"Captain Tallmadge, what say you?" Washington questioned

Ben hesitated, "I... I concur with the general, sir." He could feel the glare Will was sending him and heard Mr. Sackett scoff. "The chain of agents approach would require trust and in that resource, I'm afraid we find ourselves lacking," he defended.

"You're speaking now of your men on Long Island."

"No, sir, I'm speaking of the men in this room." All eyes fixed themselves on the captain as he spoke. "Sir, for a conspiracy like this one to function, we would need to be keeping secrets from the enemy, from Congress, even from our own army." This would require absolute trust amongst the secret-keepers, and yet General Scott here does not trust me or my judgment. Mr. Sackett here mistrusts my experience, much as I mistrust his attitude toward the lives of the agents in the field. Mr. Sackett also mistrusts Captain Pickler's judgment, experience, and decision making even though his decisions have proved to be valuable. And you, sir... you know the name Abraham Woodhull and yet you will not disclose to me the source of your knowledge. Apparently, you do not trust me either," Ben concluded before turning to Will. "The only person I do trust is Captain Pickler because of our openness and honesty towards each other. And I believe he trusts me as well."

Looking up, Will acknowledged Ben's argument with a nod. The guilt he felt earlier that day returned, he trusted him because of the openness and honesty between the two. Ben's words, however, interrupted his thoughts.

"Therefore, I cannot trust the success of any chain that we might build here today."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as the occupants considered Captain Tallmadge's words. Washington finally broke the silence saying, "I would like to speak with Captain Tallmadge alone."

* * *

Washington and Ben walked through the camp as the snow fell.

"Mr. Sackett tells me that you prefer an alias for Woodhull. I must say, I concur."

Ben startled, managed to not stutter his words. "Forgive me, sir, but I thought that we had agreed that the best way forward... "

"You were right in your prescription," Washington admitted. "We require an amendment in the name of trust. Following our retreat from Brooklyn Heights, I tasked a native to reconnoiter enemy encampments around Long Island and seek out contacts friendly to our side. His name was Nathan Hale, and he was captured while he was on a mission for me. He was hanged as a spy."

Ben spoke quietly, “I remember, sir. I was in that room.”

Washington continued the part of the story Ben didn’t know. "Fortunately, his best friend at Yale, a certain Benjamin Tallmadge, spoke often of his hometown friends... a whaler named Brewster and a farmer named Woodhull. I wrote those three names down on a report, a report I looked back on when an unsigned letter sent by an anonymous farmer proved correct," he revealed. "Captain Hale died without friends to support him. We cannot let that happen to Mr. Culpepper."

"Mr. Culpepper?" Ben repeated, extremely confused.

Holding up the egg Sackett made earlier that day, Washington crushed it in his hand saying, "We'll never use the name Woodhull again."

Washington headed back to the building leaving a baffled Benjamin Tallmadge in the snow. The captain replayed His Excellency's words in his mind realizing that this spy ring would become of use.

* * *

_Morristown Headquarters. January 16, 1777._

"You are an invaluable asset to me," Washington informed the general in front of him. "And so, General Scott, I feel it better to apply your acumen where it is most needed... on the front."

"But, sir," the general protested. "A captain can't run the intelligence branch."

"That's why I have promoted him to major," he announced.

"I wish you the best of luck, Your Excellency," Scott saluted before leaving.

"He is a fine general."

"Thank you for this promotion, sir," Ben beamed. "I pray I do you proud."

"As do I. Your first duty is to come up with a given name for our Mr. Culpepper."

It did not take much thinking to come up with his answer. "Samuel."

"In honor of your brother, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. And might I ask, what is the meaning of "Culpepper"?"

"Excellent question," Washington said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Understanding the general's words Ben started walking up the stairs to the house.

"And Major " Washington called, gaining Ben's attention. "Since you trust Captain Pickler and he trusts you I decided he will work with you in the Intelligence branch at least until Hamilton joins my staff. He's young and slightly inexperienced but, I concur with our future aide-de-camp, he has the makings of a tactician."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of debate surrounding whether Hamilton was born in 1755 or 1757. Historically, Hamilton went with the 1757 birthdate, that’s what all his friends and family knew. Whether the birth certificate is incorrect about 1755 or Hamilton lied is still up for debate
> 
> I've enjoyed doing this. One because I get to write and two I'm learning a lot through this research. I was worried that I made Gwen too young for an officer but after some research, I found that there were a few people who held an officer position at the age of 16.
> 
> Sonofhistory on Tumblr has a whole bunch of information on Tallmadge and Hale. According to many sources, before Hale died, Ben was very lively, half extroverted, and expressive. I mean he broke windows at Yale with Nathan. But afterward, partially due to his best friend’s terrible fate and what happened on Long Island. Including his older brother, William, being captured and starved to death, he was described as quiet, reserved, serious, and hardly flinched.
> 
> One last thing. Historically, William (the oldest brother) died instead of Samuel. Samuel Tallmadge did a lot of work as a courier (on horseback) for the Culper ring, and that is why Ben used Samuel Culper. To honor his brother’s work, but I guess the writers wanted to make it mean more. So in this story, Samuel and William basically switch places. Samuel is the oldest and dies on ‘The Jersey’ and William may work in the ring. I haven’t decided if I’ll incorporate him or not.
> 
> I'm about to go take my Anthropology final on day 6 of no air conditioning in Florida... Expect a new chapter to be up this week.


	6. Mercy Moment Murder Measure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother’s Day everyone. I’m sorry for the delay but here it is. During this time I made a decision on how the story is going to play out. The show is history adjacent, so it doesn’t follow history completely (example Battle of Monmouth took place in summer but it was winter in the show. Or Sackett’s death, he actually died in 1805). I will stick more with the show than with actual history but I will change a few things, like Monmouth will happen in Summer. 
> 
> Also most of the letters included are real correspondence. It adds more depth into the “world” I’m trying to create and helps keep things from focusing 100% on Gwen. 
> 
> All right, enough of me rambling, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_Morristown, New Jersey, February 5, 1777._

Washington faced a dilemma. His troops were suffering from “the pox”. The disease killed more soldiers than the British, he knew what he must do. He began writing two letters, one to John Hancock, the president of the Continental Congress, and one to Dr. William Shippen in Philadelphia. 

_Finding the Small pox to be spreading much and fearing that no precaution can prevent it from running through the whole of our Army, I have determined that the troops shall be inoculated. This Expedient may be attended with some inconveniences and some disadvantages, but yet I trust in its consequences will have the most happy effects. Necessity not only authorizes but seems to require the measure, for should the disorder infect the Army in the natural way and rage with its usual virulence we should have more to dread from it than from the Sword of the Enemy._

_General Washington_

* * *

_Morristown, New Jersey, February 16, 1777._

A month had passed since Ben was promoted to Major and installed as Head of Intelligence. Since then, Mr. Sackett kept them busy. Major Tallmadge’s work for Washington seemed endless and yet he still had to complete Sackett’s homework. As for William, Mr. Sackett took it upon himself to continue teaching the young man … in his own way.

Sackett drew up a list of subjects William should focus on. Originally that included Hebrew, but Will countered arguing it would be more beneficial to learn a more popular language. The two settled on German. In addition, tradecraft, traditional military strategy, and Cartography were added as they were in Sackett’s words ‘vital skills needed by a tactician’.

Will was in his tent reading on European military drill when Alex entered.

“Did you ever learn to knock,” teased Will.

“Very funny,” Alex shot back with a smile. “You can drop the act now.”

“Finally,” Lyn said with a slight giggle. “What are you doing here?”

“Is it a crime to see one’s friend? I haven’t seen you a whole lot ever since you started your ‘training’,” Alex explained. 

“You’re the one who recommended me for the job!” Lyn joked.

“That is true,” Alex mused. “So, how’s working with Tallmadge?” he asked.

“As of right now, exhausting,” Lyn admitted. “Mr. Sackett is making us learn tradecraft and since I never completed my studies at King’s College, I get extra homework. While the poor major has to complete assignments from Washington on top of Sackett’s demands.”

“Well we all have our roles, but you didn’t answer my question.” Lyn looked up confused to which Alex explained, “I asked about Tallmadge not Sackett.” He earned a playful glare from Lyn for the cheeky remark.

“Well when we’re not working for Sackett, we focus on gathering intelligence. He’s pretty good at it, very organized and observant, but I guess that’s what you expect from a Yale graduate.” Noticing Alex’s sly smile Lyn quickly added, “And he has some impulse control,” hoping it would stop Alex in his tracks.

It didn’t

“Sounds like you’re falling for him,” Alex dramatically joked.

“First of all they’re observations from working together, not romantic interest,” Lyn corrected. “And secondly, the day I fall for a man is the day you marry a woman.”

“Well I guess we’ll both be unmarried then. Because I’ll be too busy doing my job.

“Oh you won’t be laughing for long. It’s a lot more work than you think.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?” Alex accused playfully. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I prove you wrong.”

“You do that.”

“Don’t forget, later today we’re training. It's the perfect time to work on your swordsmanship.”

“Trust me I know, you never let me forget. Now if you excuse me I have to report to Sackett.”

“Have fun,” he grinned cheekily.

“Shut up,” Lyn called over her shoulder as she left the tent. 

~~~~

_Setauket, Long Island._

Meanwhile Caleb Brewster made his way to Setauket to deliver the codebook to the now Mr. Culpepper. Sneaking into his friend’s bedroom, Caleb sat in a rocking chair moving back and forth, as he watched his friend sleep. The creaking wood awoke the man, as he looked up and saw a figure sitting right beside him, he leapt from the bed in a startle.

“Hey, Woody. You got any breakfast here?,” Caleb asked nonchalantly. 

“Oh, you bastard. bastard!” he yelled, throwing a book at the ‘friendly intruder’. 

“All right.” Caleb tried to calm him, defending his face from the thrown object with his hands.

“What are you doing here?,” Abe cried. “This is my home!”

“Aye, and a fine little home it is,” he complimented before continuing with a mischievous smile, “albeit a bit lonely.” 

“And you are aware that the soldier who is quartered here will be back soon.”

“Well, we'd better eat quick, then.”

The childhood friends descended down the stairs. Sitting down to eat, Caleb picked up a spoon and examined it before saying, “It's fine silver. I'll get you a good price for it across the Sound, if you like.”

“Give me that,” Abe snapped, snatching the spoon away. “We're supposed to meet in the cove.”

“Yeah, and you're supposed to hang a petticoat,” Caleb quipped. 

“When I'm ready with the intelligence. That was the plan.”

“When you're ready? It's been two months since you passed on that little morsel about sauerkraut.”

“I've been having trouble getting into the city without raising suspicions, all right?” Abe defended himself as he turned to look out the window for the quartered soldier. “It's not as easy for me as you'd think.” 

“No one thinks it is easy. But this is about more than just you,” Caleb reasoned, pulling out the codebook Will copied and dropped it on the table.

“What's this?” 

“That is your new Bible.” Caleb explained as Abe picked up the book and began flipping through the pages. “It's a code dictionary. Makes sure that anything that you write can't be read by the enemy. In case of intercept. Each word has its own number. Ben chose the words he thought we'd use most. Now, look,” he continued, getting up from his chair to point to the names in the book. “Here, 722. That's you. 721 is Benny boy. 725, yours truly. “

“Yeah, but hang on a sec. Look, 722 says here Samuel Culper.”

“Culpepper,” Caleb corrected. “Yeah? That's your alias, all right? It's the only name we use for you back at headquarters. Woodhull does not exist.”

“Culpepper. Culpeh-per. Cul-pepper. Peeper, Piper, Pepper,” he tried, before declaring, “I hate it.”

“Well, Washington picked that one. And Ben picked Samuel on account of his brother.”

“Washing... Washington? General Washington?” Abe stuttered.

“That's right. Old 711 himself.”

“Hold on who’s this?” he asked pointing at a line tracing the number to the name. “724 - William… Pickler? Who’s that?”

“Ah, he’s a Captain back at camp helping out with the ring.”

“WHAT! No, are you serious,” Abe protested. “You just let someone who I don’t know in on this.”

“No we didn’t. Washington did,” Caleb smirked, as Abe struggled to find the words to argue. “If he trusts him, then he’s good.”

“Wait you haven’t even met him yet?”

“Eh, haven’t had the time. Neither has he, having to report to three people and all that. But don’t worry about it, from what Ben’s said, he sounds trustworthy.”

“Three people?” 

“Ben, some future aide to Washington, and Sackett, who’s training Ben and Will to run intelligence. He’s the one that created the book,” Caleb explained, pointing at the book.

Looking back to said book, Abe sat down and began reading, “Mercy, Mooment, Murder, Measure. I'm not gonna remember all this”. 

“That's why you keep the book hidden. Now, when can I tell them you're heading back to British headquarters?”

~~~~

_Morristown, New Jersey._

Will entered the Morristown Headquarters and headed straight towards Sackett’s ‘office’. Technically it was now Ben’s as he was Head of Intelligence, but as of right now, Sackett was in charge of the Major and Captain. 

Mr. Sackett looked up and grumbled a “good morning” and continued working. Will internally smirked at the elder man’s greeting as he sat down at the adjacent desk. He began reaching for his folder that contained Sackett’s tradecraft ‘homework’ when the man stopped him.

“No, we’re not working on that. Today, you’ll be showing me what you have learned,” he explained

“Show you what I have learned?” Will asked, unsure of the spymaster’s intentions.

“It is your wish to become a tactician, yes?” he questioned, earning a slight nod from the young Captain. “Then you must prove that you are ready to continue.”

“How?”

“By planning a mock battle,” he said, pulling out a map of New Jersey. “Here is your test. It is October, and the army is currently stationed around New Brunswick, just beginning to set camp for the winter. There are currently only 400 soldiers, the rest are a day’s march behind. The British know that our supplies and artillery are two days behind the leading companies, and send three battalions, each with about 150 men, from New York to attack the main army before it can arrive. Inflicting heavy damage and casualties to the exhausted army, with little risk to their own. Our spy has given us this knowledge a day before the attack, how do you proceed? You have thirty minutes.”

Will grabbed parchment and a quill and quickly started scribbling down broad plans with their pro’s and con’s.

Option 1: Retreat. 

Breaking the camp that already began setting up is a huge waste of energy, but it could buy valuable time to rendezvous with the rest of the army and artillery. But by then the British could secure the abandoned area and start creating defensive positions, causing the army to find another camping site.

Option 2: Fight

Without munitions and with tired soldiers, fending off an attack of this magnitude would be futile. The majority of soldiers are still behind, the amount already camped, even if they were in peak condition, would have a slim chance to succeed. If the army were to succeed, there would be heavy casualties, soldiers and officers alike.

 _‘Officers,’_ Will thought. _‘That’s it! Majority of the people there would be top officers. The British would attack the officer tents first. If they can get to my father and the other generals the revolution would end in a heartbeat.’_

Then a brilliant idea came to mind. Something Ben once said about the first intelligence Culpepper brought. The British knew about a rebel safe house in Connecticut and planned a raid, giving no quarter to any man. But, they found out in time and were able to set a trap, killing all but one of the regulars.

_‘A trap. That’s what we need.’_

Option 3: Spring a trap

The British would most likely go for the officers first. Finish setting up camp, telling only the higher up officers the plan. If the British knew our camping location, they must have spies placed in the army. Do not allow the British to figure out that we know of their plan, the element of surprise is key. Fortifying for an attack would give us away, as would retreat; so we continue as normal. But, like we did on Christmas night, the soldiers are moved in the middle of the night to the tree line near the officer’s tents but are not told what we are doing until the attack. We send scouts to alert us when the British launch their assault. They will charge into an empty camp, where we will fire upon them, then, if necessary, spring from the shadows with bayonets. Hopefully the initial shots will scare the British off, making our numbers seem exaggerated with the musket fire.

It was a risky plan, much of it relied on hypothetical guesses. If the situation was real, much more information about the terrain, the soldiers’ conditions, the amount of supplies at the ready, where the British were camped, would be available. But it was the best he could come up with.

Meanwhile, Sackett observed Will. Not at his strategizing but at the person. Something was off, it was his job to discover conspiracies against America, to find the spies and liars. Will was hiding something, Sackett just couldn't put his finger on it. The boy’s story was consistent and practical, but something was off, Will isn’t who he says he is. 

The thirty minutes had passed, and Will handed his plans to Mr. Sackett.

“Hmph,” he grunted looking between the plans and the map. “Rather interesting, a trap.”

“Yes, sir.” Will answered, unsure if Sackett was impressed or surprised at a disappointing plan.

“Well, let’s see what our commander-in-chief thinks of it?”

“Wait, General Washington will see this?” Will asked worriedly. He still couldn’t tell if Sackett thought it was a practical plan. He could simply be showing it to Washington to prove his unworthiness of the job. Or even worse, Washington would recognize the handwriting as Gwen’s and put two and two together.

Sackett noticed the slight panic on the teenager’s face. “Yes, he’s going to see it. This will either prove that you have what it takes to be a tactician or you do not. I do not decide, he does. Now while I go, you get to work.” 

~~~~

Not long after Sackett had left, Ben entered the office, not surprised at the presence of Will. What he did find odd was the missing spymaster, but Ben decided not to ask questions and got to work.

Hours later the two have sat in silence working, Ben on compiling, Will was reading a German traditional military drill book. Reading in German forced Will to learn and understand the language faster, and it was to his benefit as the Germans were the best at conceiving military strategies. 

Then, a bearded man Will did not recognize walked in. Apparently Ben knew him, because the first question he asked was, “How did it go?”

“Rather well, but there's something going on between those two. I just don't know what,” he said, pacing the room. “You know, when I suggested that he take Anna to New York to get past the checkpoint, he got very upset. Anyway, I suppose none of this is our concern. “

“They're my only two agents on Long Island. If there's trouble between them, I want to know about it,” Ben insisted.

“Well, how's about you jump on a whaleboat with me, Major? Get your arse out of this woodpile?”

The said Major sighed, “I'd like to. Washington needs me here. Compiling. That and there's Sackett's homework... tradecraft, as he calls it.”

Feeling the time was right to make his presence known Will jumped in asking, “Does it feel like you’re back in school again?”

The bearded man looked up, unsure of how he missed a third person in the room. “Who’s this?” he questioned.

“Captain William Pickler,” he answered, offering his hand. “I’m working with your friend here”

“Ah it’s finally nice to meet you. Lieutenant Caleb Brewster,” he replied, shaking the offered hand.

“He’s been working on the code book,” Ben explained, not looking up from his compiling.

“Actually I’m doing Sackett’s homework,” Will corrected, relishing Ben's glare of annoyance. “No it’s not tradecraft. It’s for those _‘special’_ subjects he’s making learn,” he sarcastically clarified. “Reading a German tactic book”

“Yeah? You two boys get to go back to school,” Caleb laughed. “See, this is exactly the reason why I've been careful to avoid success.”

Ben chuckled at his friend’s remark while Will rolled his eyes suppressing his laughter with a smirk. 

“Sir?” A courrier entered the room.

"’Sir,’ he says,” Caleb mocked, earning another playful eye roll from Will who was trying to stay focused.

“I have an urgent report from the provost marshal,” he announced handing Ben a letter. “He thought perhaps you'd like to see the latest prisoner exchange proposal.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” The Major replied, dismissing the messenger.

Opening the letter, Ben scanned the names of the prisoners until his eyes saw a familiar name. Instantly he jumped out of his chair in disbelief of the name. Will looked up at the sudden movement trying to deduce what caused it.

“What is it?” Caleb asked.

“Samuel,” Ben gasped. “It's - It’s Samuel. He's alive. He's - He’s being released.”

Caleb took the letter to see it for himself. “Sammy boy!” he exclaimed before bringing Ben into a hug. 

Will smiled at the exchange. From what he learned about Ben, he and his brother were close.

“‘When do we go get him?” Caleb inquired.

“I…,” Ben began before sighing. “Oh, I have to report to Washington tomorrow,” he trailed off.

“Oh, come on,” coaxed Caleb. “He'll release you for this.”

“No,” Ben protested. “He won't.”

“Yes, he would,” argued Will, abandoning Sackett’s homework. “Believe it or not the general does have a heart.,” he joked. “He’ll understand.”

“No He- He'd consider it special treatment,” Ben objected again. “There are other men's brothers on that list.”

Will remained silent, replaying the Major’s words in his head. Looking up, he gave Ben a small smile and a nod. He admired his friend’s humility, not many people would think of others in a situation like this.

“All right. Well, I'll pick him up,” Caleb declared. “Yeah, I'll go and get Samuel and then I'll bring him back straight here,” he said pacing the room. “Actually, I'll get him drunk first,” he chortled, jumping back and forth. 

Will started chuckling at Caleb’s antics, shaking his head when Caleb proclaimed, “No, I'll get him drunk and then I'll get him a screw.”

Grabbing his hat Caleb made his way to the door before Ben called out, “Wait, Caleb.”

“Yeah?” he turned around.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, what are brothers for, right?” he said before taking off.

Ben sighed, preparing to go back to work when he noticed Will smiling, trying to suppress his laughter.

“That’s Caleb for you.” 

Finally regaining some composure Will complimented, “seems like a good friend to have”

“That he is,” Ben affirmed turning back to his desk.

“Don’t tell me you’re going back to work,” Will demurred.

“Yes, Washington needs these done-,” Ben started to explain.

“And you have plenty of time,” WIll interrupted. “You just found out your brother’s alive and being released. Take a break.”

“I need to-”

“One of the things I learned from Alex’s mistakes at King’s College is that it’s important to take a break when other things are on your mind. Even if it’s for a few minutes.”

“Alright,” he relented. “But only for a few minutes.”

“So tell me more about your brother.”

“Samuel? Well,” Ben paused thinking about what to say. “Being only a year younger than me, he played with Caleb, Abe, Selah, and I. We were almost always together, from school to our childish antics,” he laughed, reminiscing his childhood. Returning to a more serious tone he continued, “Then I went to Yale while Samuel remained back in Setauket. He was quite the Patriot and joined the army. Quickly became a captain, like you, but then the British attacked Long Island where he was fighting.” Ben went quiet, “I thought he was dead after hearing how officers were treated on that prison ship.”

Will put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. "I remember seeing the British cross the river and land on Long Island. Alex and I could only watch what happened next.” Will removed his hand and looked down.

“What about your brother?” Ben asked. William looked up slightly confused. “You mentioned something about your half-brother coming back after your sister died.”

“Yes, Jacky. He was… a rebellious child and to be frank he still is. Jacky was smart, some described him as a boy genius, but when he got older he wanted to spend his time outdoors and frequently snuck out during his lessons.

“Ah yes, the rebellious streak.”

“My father, who lost education opportunities when his father died, ensured that Jacky and I would receive the education he missed. When Jacky showed little interest in his school work, my father became frustrated and promised himself that I wouldn’t follow my brother’s footsteps. But that didn’t stop Jacky from sneaking me outside to teach me all about hunting and war.” Will and Ben shared a laugh. “He then became engaged right before he was supposed to leave for King’s College. My father convinced them to postpone the wedding until Jacky graduated. Then Patsy died and he came back home to consol my mother leaving the college for good. He married Eleanor a few months later. His wife was expecting a child when I left, but I haven't been in contact since.”

“It is difficult to remain distant from those we care most about,” Ben comforted before heading back to work.

 _‘especially when you see them frequently,’_ Will thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a long time, but thanks for hanging in there. Finals are over, I have an AP test Monday, yay, because I decided it was a good idea to take AP Government over the summer (It was a TERRIBLE choice, DO NOT DO IT). Monday is also the day the summer semester starts… for some reason that I don’t understand. WHY DO I ONLY GET ONE WEEK BETWEEN SEMESTERS. But it’s only one class so I should have plenty of time to write. 
> 
> Right now my aim is a chapter a week on Saturday, maybe two a week (Wednesday and Saturday). One day for the basic structure (dialogue and actions), one for filling it in, and the last day for editing.
> 
> I would like to add that I originally started the story on Wattpad (OllieOliveOboelo22), but I have now published it on Fanfiction (gcallen22) and AO3 (OllieOliveOboelo22) as well. To those on the latter two platforms, you should check the story out on Wattpad. One of the platform’s perks is that I can take pictures on my phone, and upload them as a chapter on the same device. There is some extra content there, such as when I got bored and started reading the letters Washington sent Lafayette after the war. But other than that you won’t be missing anything in the chapters. I write on google docs, then copy and paste into each platform.
> 
> I want to thank you (AO3 users) for your kind words towards my story, it means a lot and I will try to reply to all of you. 
> 
> I hope that you all are safe during this time, my mom is a healthcare provider so it’s hard on our family. If you’re a student keep working hard, I know it’s difficult but hang in there. Stay safe everyone.


	7. Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took so long. I kept working on this chapter on and off. I wouldn’t say writer’s block, but I just couldn’t write this chapter because I’m just thinking about chapters in late season 3 and season 4 where everything goes crazy. Huge plans for Many Mickles Make a Muckle, Trial and Execution, Blood for Blood, and basically the rest of that season. I just kept thinking about scenes and how they would play out and kept tweaking them and then I was like “shit, I gotta actually write the other chapters first if I want to get there.” The historical inaccuracy in the second chapter kept bothering me as well so I finally went back and rewrote it. That meant I had to re-do later chapters as well. But you know what, it’s ok I don’t mind doing it and it allows for some interesting reveals in the future...
> 
> So yeah…. Quarantine is making me LOSE MY MIND. I discovered the Hunger Games simulator and added all of our beloved tributes... I MEAN CHARACTERS. It was rather fun so I thought, “Hey I could make a book out of this!” So I did. It will only be on my Wattpad because I can upload pictures there. (Sorry other platforms). I just wanted to make that announcement, NOW ONWARD!
> 
> Warning this is also a LONG chapter…. Enjoy!
> 
> Published August 11, 2020

_Morristown. February 16, 1777._

Mr. Sackett waited outside of the General’s office, William’s ‘test’ in hand. He was quite surprised at the young Captain’s thinking, setting a trap. In a real situation, it was a plausible strategy, surprising the British but the plan did rely on several unknowns that could backfire. But the idea of a trap is not what intrigued him, it was the boy’s ability to pick up on the small details and fill in the missing information. Sackett purposely set it up to have Will find those hidden details but he didn’t expect him to find so many. Figuring out there must have been a spy, the British would focus on the top officers, exaggerating their numbers.

But something kept nagging at him. There was no doubt that the boy was hiding something, and he was determined to figure out what. Why did Washington add him to intelligence anyway, he was only 16. He could train to become a tactician without becoming involved in Tallmadge’s spy ring. What made him so trustworthy in the General’s eyes?

Finally, the door opened as several officers left the room. Mr. Sackett peered into the room to see the General looking over dozens of letters littered around his desk. Looking up he noticed the spymaster’s presence and signaled him to enter.

“Has there been any new intelligence from our agent?” he asked

“No, I come with news about your’ tactician in training’ as you say,” Sackett informed, placing a pile of papers on the one clear space on the desk.

“What is this?”

“I gave our young Captain a little test of sorts to see if he is prepared.”

“How did he fare?” Washington asked, examining the papers.

“His plan is rather intriguing, but of course, I’m no tactician. That is why I have brought it to you, for your judgment.”

Washington took a few minutes to review the ‘test’ as Mr. Sackett had called it. But he found himself re-reading William’s words over and over again. The idea of a trap wasn’t out of the ordinary, many could have thought of it, but the level of detail given based off of limited knowledge was unique.

“He shows great promise. You have done an excellent job in mentoring him, Nathaniel.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied before asking the question that troubled his mind. “But I must ask, why is he involved in the Intelligence Branch?”

“What do you mean? Is he not living up to your expectations in that department?”

“No, quite the opposite. But he is only sixteen and surely he can be mentored without such involvement. To put it frankly, I do not understand what he has done to become involved.”

“Perhaps I should have told you sooner,” Washington sighed, “but I wanted to wait until the source provided intelligence.”

“Source? What source?”

“Prior to the attack on our Hackensack camp in New Jersey, Captain Pickler and Colonel Hamilton were able to recruit a man to serve as a spy…” Washington disclosed as he began the story

* * *

_Flashback: January 12, 1777._

_“_ _Then what would you have me do, Hamilton?"_

_"If I may suggest sir, I would recommend he become a tactician. He has an excellent mind, it was he who saw the cannons and figured out the Hessian plan at Trenton. When marching to Princeton, he found a clever solution to muffle the sound of the cannons that would have alerted the British of our movements. And at White Plains, he proposed a different tactic, in place of another one, that repelled a Hessian charge… He has also aided me in the recruitment of a spy who resides in York City.”_

_Washington leaned forward in interest. Thanks to Captain Tallmadge’s intelligence on Long Island their attacks on Trenton and Princeton were successful. But to have a spy in the city itself would be invaluable._

_Noticing Washington’s interest, Hamilton continued, “his name is Hercules Mulligan, and he owns a rather popular tailor shop inside the city. He met us back in Hackensack saying he was let out of prison for good behavior and as long as he remained in the city. Pickler suggested he head back since he had the British's trust and being the son-in-law to Admiral Sanders of the Royal Navy. He could listen in his shop that many officers visit and send information, we haven’t heard anything yet but given that it’s winter there’s not much to hear.”_

* * *

Finishing the encounter, the General then explained, “that is why the Captain is involved in intelligence. He has a spy of his own, but never mentioned him to you or Major Tallmadge until he received intelligence. We do not want to bring false hope.”

“I understand sir. I am assuming Mr. Mulligan is a trustworthy source.”

“Like out Mr. Culpepper, Mulligan is a close friend to Colonel Hamilton and later to Captain Pickler.”

“I see, thank you, sir,” Mr. Sackett turned to leave.

“Before you leave, I have something of the utmost importance to ask you.”

Turning back around, the spymaster replied,” yes?”

“As a man who dedicates his life to the art of secrecy, I must ask you to aid me. I am assuming you know of the process of inoculation?” he asked, looking to the man for a response. Receiving a nod, the General continued, “Smallpox will destroy this army if we do not take action, we must inoculate the army now, while we are still in camp to allow them to recover before the fighting resumes. This is where I need your help, the British cannot know our army is weakened by sickness or they will attack while we are at our most vulnerable.”

“You need me to control the flow of information in and out of camp.”

“Precisely”

* * *

After Caleb left, Ben and Will remained at headquarters for a few more hours. Will had mostly finished his work, at this point all he had to do was practice his German. He was convinced Sackett was getting back at him for insisting on German instead of Hebrew by supplying the military guides in their original German form.

Despite his need to improve, Will didn’t need to stay. He only did so because he wished to see Mr. Sackett. Surely I can’t take this long to bring this up to the General, even if he was busy, Sackett would’ve come back.

_‘What if he’s avoiding me. What if my fath- the General dismissed it and thinks I don’t have what it takes. He would think poorly of Alexander for suggesting me. Or even worse, he recognized my handwriting. He could suspect Alex for helping me, I cost Alex the opportunity of his life…’_

Ben noticing the sixteen-year old’s anxiety quickly asked, “what’s wrong”

“Nothing,” Will replied, a little too rapidly. Ben’s question startled him as his mind was a whirlwind of panicked thoughts.

Putting down his quill, Ben leaned slightly forward in his chair and said, “You are good at many things Will, but lying is not one of them. What is it?”

Will’s mind sped up again, _‘Am I a terrible liar? If Ben can see through me, so can Sackett… They’ll find out and tell the General, I’ll be sent home and destroy my - no the General’s reputation. He’ll be labeled as a man who cannot control his daughter. I was a fool to think that I could trick an entire camp that includes spymasters and the Commander-in-Chief, that just so happens to be my father.’_

Will’s silence and distance from the conversation worried Ben. Getting up from his desk, the Major approached the young Captain who now had his head in his hands. Tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder, Ben crouched down to eye level and asked again, “Will, I can tell something is going on. You can tell me.”

Ben’s words finally breached the storm in Will’s mind. The Captain looked up but avoided the older man’s gaze. “Sackett gave me a surprise test to judge whether or not I was ready. When I finished, he responded in the traditional Sackett way,” Will explained, earning a slight laugh from both individuals. “But then he said he was going to show Washington and left right before you came in. It’s been hours and I guess, I’m just worried it wasn’t enough.”

Will’s response wasn’t a complete lie, the test was the original source of the thoughts that plagued his mind. But then they spiraled out of control into the recurring fears that someone will discover that William Pickler was Gwendolyn Washington.

Ben remained silent, listening to Will’s explanation. He understood the fears of not being enough. Hell, he still experienced them to this day now that he was head of intelligence. But Will? The poor boy was only sixteen, already a captain, estranged from his family, and was preparing to be a tactician for the army. He knew Sackett’s demands were enormous, but he only had tradecraft and intelligence work. Will’s workload was much bigger, Ben couldn’t even begin to imagine being in Will’s position. If he was his age and promoted to Head-of-Intelligence, the overwhelming workload would drown him. Ben could also tell that there was more to the story, but after hearing the short confession, Ben wouldn’t press any further.

“I’m sorry,” Will half-laughed. “I shouldn’t be worrying about such small things.”

“No, don’t apologize, William,” Ben sympathized. Will finally looked at the major at the mention of his ‘full’ name. Finally feeling as he was getting somewhere, Ben continued, “you’ve been put through so much undue pressure for someone your age.”

“I’m not the only one,” Will answered, shaking his head. “The entire army has to suffer through much more than they should.”

“Yes,” Ben acknowledged, “but do any of them have to endure Sackett?” A small smile tugged on Will’s face. Ben felt as he had accomplished something already, he wanted to continue to help the boy but he felt that he was not the one suited for the job. “Now, I suggest you follow your own advice and take a break.”

Will opened his mouth to protest he was fine until Ben cut him off. “-for the rest of the day.”

“But-”

“I’ll make it an order if I have to _Captain,_ ” he lightheartedly threatened as he removed his hand from the teenager’s shoulder. “I’m sure Hamilton wouldn’t mind you stopping by.”

Sighing in a mix of relief and reluctance, Will stood up and smiled softly to his friend, “Thank you.”

* * *

“Ah, I was wondering when you would show up,” Alex teased, as he got up from where he was sitting. “Don’t worry no one is around.”

“Sorry about that, I got… caught up with Sackett’s work,” Lyn answered. She was unsure of how to respond, not wanting to alarm her friend. For nearly an entire week she had been worrying about her identity as she interacted more and more with the General.

Alex raised an eyebrow, giving her a knowing look, “there’s more.”

“Alright,” she relented, slumping next to a tree, “since you and Tallmadge want to know what’s bothering me.”

“Tallmadge?”

“Yeah, he made me stop for the day.”

“Does he … know?”

“No, it’s just I started panicking about the General finding out about me.” Looking up, she saw Alex nodding for her to go on. “Sackett gave me this test, at least that’s what he called it. In the end, he didn’t really say anything except that he was taking it to Washington. I was worried that I failed and it spiraled to me fearing he would notice the handwriting and-”

“Gwen, calm down,” Alex interrupted when he observed her breathing and voice became uneven. She tried slowing down, breathing deeper but it didn’t stop the shaking exhales or hands. “Come here,” he said, enveloping her into a hug, wrapping his cloak around them as snow lightly fell from the sky. He didn’t fail to notice how she addressed her father as ‘The General’ or ‘Washington’, but right now he needed to ease her panic.

It was the first time in months she had heard someone call her by her old name, it was rather soothing. For at least a moment, to drop the act and be herself. If only the world would allow such things, but alas she had to pretend to be a man. Finally calming herself, she started pulling away only for Alex to grip her even tighter, refusing her to leave the cloaked cocoon.

“Alex,” she laughed, “let me out.”

“Are you sure you want that?” he chuckled back.

“Yes, it’s becoming impossible to breathe,” her muffled voice shot back.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said, releasing her into the cold air. He laughed at her shocked face and slight hiss as the bone-chilling wind hit her, “I did warn you.”

She tried to glare back, but instead, she huffed out a laugh failing to hold back a grin.

“Well I don’t think we will be training with a sword today,” he joked. “Come on, let’s get out of this weather.”

“Not a fan of the cold I see,” Gwen remarked as the two walked towards his tent.

“I grew up only knowing the hot, humid weather of the Caribbean. How you tolerate the cold, I will never know.”

“And you think I know?” she laughed. “I’m from Virginia! We may get snow, but nothing like what New Jersey has.”

“Well, I soon won’t have to suffer through this accursed weather as much.”

“Right, aides get to sleep inside while the rest of us sleep in freezing tents,” she joked as they entered. “Speaking of aides, what are the others like? I’ve only seen a few of them but haven’t had the chance to speak with them.”

“I’ve only had the opportunity of meeting Tench Tilghman, he’s an interesting man, extremely loyal to your father.” He looked to see her reaction.

At the mention of ‘father’, Gwen tensed and quietly said, “you mean the General. He- he can’t be my father while I am in this camp, Alex.”

“That’s what has been bothering you. Not the fact that he will discover you, but that you are so close to him but must remain far away.”

She nodded slowly.

Alex didn’t know how to help, but he would try his best. It was only to be expected of a good ‘older brother’.

“Perhaps you can try to form a bond with him as William Pickler,” he suggested. “I know it won’t be the same, but at least it will be something.”

She looked up, “he’s the general, how do you know if he’ll even accept it. Besides it’s risky, being close will make it easier for him to spot me.”

Shaking his head, “I’ve heard from the other aides that he has his military family. If you’re working with Tallmadge he’ll see you as such. As to your other point, wouldn’t it be suspicious if a member of his ‘family’ tries to avoid him at all costs.”

Gwen pondered over his words. Alex had a point, trying to avoid him would only draw more attention, something she didn’t need.

“Alright,” she sighed, “I’ll try it. But if this idea of yours gets me caught…” She didn't need to finish her threat. Alex knew that whatever lay ahead of him wouldn’t be good.”You won’t,” he answered, “I promise.”

* * *

_Morristown. February 17, 1777._

Will was extremely grateful that Ben had finally given some perspective. It forced him to talk to Alex, and that discussion itself lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders.

Caleb left about an hour ago to pick up Samuel, but Will noticed the Major’s glances to the clock as he paced. He obviously wanted to be the one to greet his brother.

“Go,” he said.

“What?” Ben replied, breaking his gaze from the clock that now read 8:58 am.

“Go,” Will repeated. “And see your brother. I’ll cover for you.”

Ben was at a loss for words, finally asking, ”Wh-Why?”

“I would do anything to see my sister for one last time,” Will murmured before speaking up, “and I owe you after what you did yesterday.” A wave of silence flooded the room. “ How long did you believe him to be dead?”

Ben paused thinking, “6 months” he whispered in admittance.

“Six months. You thought he was dead for six months only to find out that he is alive. You of all people have a right to see him. I can tell that you want to.”

“But...”

“I will take care of it and put any rumors of special treatment to rest. Now go.” Will’s blue-gray eyes were filled with determination. He would not give this fight up easily.

Ben debated back and forth over the suggestion. He knew that the teenage Captain would cover for him. “Thank you, Will,” he said, full of happiness and relief.

Will smiled in acknowledgment as Ben strode across the room and picked up his sword and dragoon helmet.

As he approached the door he glanced over his shoulder towards Will. Their eyes met and Will understood almost immediately what Ben was asking and gave him an assuring nod that everything would be alright. Smiling back, Ben continued out the door.

Turning back to his work, Will looked at the Prussian military guide, _Handbuch für Offiziere in den anwendbaren Teilen der Kriegswiss_ _enschaften._ **(** **Manual for officers in the applicable parts of the war sciences)** Sackett’s brilliant idea was to have him learn German and war strategy at the same time, but it was rather a slow process of translating every other word. Sighing, he picked up the book and attempted to read the same page for the 4th time.

* * *

Riding on a chestnut horse, Ben noticed the party of soldiers traveling from the exchange grounds. “Captain Henry?”

“Major.” He answered.

“What news of the prisoner exchange?”

“We were ambushed, sir. Queen's Rangers.”

Ben’s face filled with worry. “What?” Scanning the group he noticed the missing presence of Samuel, “My brother? Where's my brother?”

They attempted to pose another man in his stead, sir. Brewster vouched for him, but I couldn't risk bringing an unknown prisoner back to camp,” the Captain informed him.

Realizing his friend was also missing he asked, “What about Brewster? Where's Brewster?”

“He headed north, sir, through neutral territory. He said to tell you "Genevieve." He was sure you'd understand what it meant.”

Ben clicked his tongue and muttered “Come on, boy.” to his horse. He took off towards Elizabethtown Tavern, hoping William could cover for him for a little longer.

* * *

William had finally managed to get half-way through the manual and decided it would be best to stop there. It was slow and painful, but he was starting to get the hang of basic German, killing two birds with one stone.

While taking a small break to stretch, George Johnson, one of the aide-de-camps to the General walked in.

“Where is Major Tallmadge?” he asked, slightly annoyed.

“He was called outside, but he should be back relatively soon,” Will answered, not bothering to look at the aide.

Huffing he replied, “Well, make sure to tell the Major, his Excellency expects his compiling tonight.”

“Of course,” Will said nonchalantly. He leaned back in his chair and stared out the window, wondering if Ben had reached his brother yet. The thought stirred up an old memory.

* * *

_Flashback: April 8, 1767_

_Patsy and Gwen ran side by side in the garden, looking for a place to hide from Jacky. The elder shushed her giggling sister, as they ducked behind a bush._

_“I’m going to find you,” their older brother playfully taunted. He slowly made his way up and down the path of the garden, listening for his younger sisters, when an idea popped into his head._

_He froze, not making a sound, giving enough time for the suspense to fill in. Then calmly he said in a loud voice, “laugh.”_

_Patsy immediately put her hand over Gwen’s mouth, but it didn’t muffle her laughter. Jacky had recently discovered he could make her laugh on command with that exact word and was constantly exploiting it._

_“Ah-ha,” Jacky ran towards the bush. “Found you!”_

_“No fair!” Patsy protested, still holding her laughing sister. “You cheated making her laugh!”_

_The word ‘laugh’ made Gwen burst out again, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it._

_“No, I didn’t.” His sister’s laugh was contagious, and soon he started laughing with her._

_“It isn’t funny,” Patsy shot back. Trying her best not to lose control and laugh along. She forced down a grin as Gwen calmed down._

_Jacky stared down the youngest in the eye, “Laugh”_

_Fits of giggles erupted that neither the older siblings were immune to. All three cackled together._

* * *

Ben rode through neutral territory when he saw through the trees Caleb and one of Roger’s Rangers. Aiming his pistol he shouted, “Get down!”

From his horse, he shot Roger’s native guide. Continuing to gallop through, Rogers took a shot at him. His horse reared on its hind legs, throwing him onto the ground. Ignoring his fallen helmet, Ben rolled to his feet and rushed over to Caleb. He slid down the small slope next to Caleb, quickly reloading his pistol.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Caleb interrogated.

“Trying to save you,” Ben shot back.

“I meant for us to meet at the Elizabeth Town Tavern, all right? Don't you know a trap when you see one?”

“You're welcome, Brewster.”

“Well, you wanted Rogers, right? You got him.”

* * *

WIll had finished another section of the book and still no sign of Ben. Sighing, he looked out the window and saw the group of exchanged soldiers. Quickly making his way outside, it didn’t take long for him to realize that neither Caleb nor Ben were present.

Approaching the Captain he inquired, “Where is Major Tallmadge?”

“Out somewhere heading North in neutral territory,” he answered. “Went to meet up with Brewster and some man posing as Captain Samuel Tallmadge.”

“Posing?”

“Aye, Brewster vouched for him, but-”

“-You didn’t want to bring an unknown man into camp,” Will finished. “Thank you, Captain.”

“There’s something else you should know,” he called out. Will turned around nodding for him to continue. “The Queen’s Rangers fired on the exchange. Brewster refused to leave the imposter in fear that the Rangers would seek him out.”

Will froze, his brain thinking, but quickly broke his trance to head inside. Entering back into headquarters, Will put his head in his hands reeling in the new information. Why would the British pose someone else as Ben’s brother? What did that mean for Samuel? And Queen’s Rangers firing on the exchange? It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Brewster knew the man that was sent instead, or that Rangers were there. One thing screamed in his mind: trap. But without knowing where he was, there wasn’t much Will could do.

His eyes fell upon the stack of papers Ben was compiling earlier. Shrugging, he began sorting through the paperwork. If he couldn’t help Ben out in the field, the least he could do was complete his report.

* * *

“Tell me about my brother,” Ben asked.

Selah remained quiet, not wanting to reveal the details or relive his experience on _‘The Jersey’._

“He's got a right to know, Selah,” Caleb convinced.

Selah took a deep breath, _“The Jersey_... was hell. We had to fight for food, air to breathe. We became animals. We cursed God, all of us... except Samuel. Your brother prayed every night. Convinced me to pray, too.”

Tears began to well in Ben’s eyes. His brother… he never deserved to suffer the way Selah described the ship.

He continued, “ To fight. We protected each other. But I couldn't protect him from dysentery.”

Ben closed his eyes and tried to blink the tears away. First the news of Nathan, and now Samuel. Why? The promise of Samuel brought back that lost hope, that the war wouldn’t take so much.

“When it was done, I was the one who carried Samuel above deck. I prayed his soul go to heaven and sent his body to the sea.”

Ben sniffled as he wiped a few stray tears. The news of how his brother died, after believing he would see him again was crushing.

“Hey, at least he's at peace now, Ben,” Caleb tried to comfort.

Ben’s mind reeled. Robert Rogers, the man who had caught Nathan. The man who slaughtered his entire patrol and now used the promise of Samuel to lure him out.

“Peace?” Ben’s voice broke, “What peace?” He managed to steady it, “My brother died like a dog... with everything stripped from him. And now, even in death, Rogers... he steals his name to set a trap for me?” He shook his head before vowing, “He dies, tonight.”

* * *

It was now night, and still no sign of Ben. Will had managed to finish compiling about an hour ago and patiently waited for his friend’s return. But now, worry was setting in. He took a look at the desk where the now finished report lay, and then glanced at the door.

There was no purpose in waiting anymore, with the report done, he didn’t need to cover for Ben any longer. Making up his mind, Will decided he would try to help his friend. Looking at a map of New Jersey he looked for any locations Brewster would head in. The only town North of the exchange site was Elizabethtown.

“Good place as any to start” he muttered to himself, heading out the door.

“Hey girl,” he whispered to Gemma, leading her out. “I know it’s late, but we have to go find a friend of mine.”

Riding out of the camp, Will directed Gemma through the neutral territory. Hopefully, he would run into Ben or Caleb on his way.

Will must have been riding for at least an hour when he barely made out a chestnut horse wandering on the side of the road in the moonlight.

“Tallmadge’s horse,” he realized.

Hopping down from Gemma, he took the reins of the horse, confused as to why Ben’s horse was all the way out here.

 _‘He must have run into trouble and was separated from his horse.’_ he thought

Will remounted Gemma while leading the other horse. If he found Ben or Brewster, or the other man that was with Caleb, another horse would come in handy.

* * *

“Shh,” Caleb put a finger to his lips, raising a stick in the view of Rogers. A gunshot immediately hit the piece of wood and all three men ducked down.

* * *

Will froze when he heard the single gunshot. He had a feeling it was either Caleb or Ben or perhaps both of them. Biting his lip, he tied the Major’s horse to a nearby tree and sped off on Gemma towards the sounds.

* * *

“I have a plan,” Ben said

“Yeah? Would you mind filling me in?” Caleb muttered, trying to peer over the slope

“Victory or death,” the Major declared.

“No.”

“It's the only option, Caleb,” he tried to reason.

“You're not going out as some decoy,” the boatman protested.

“I won't let you die because of me.” Ben loaded his gun and prepared to jump out.

Caleb held back his friend and stared him in the eye, “I'm sorry about Sammy, Tall-boy. I am. And I can't bring him back like I promised. But I can help you get out of these woods and back to camp.”

Both continentals and rangers froze at the sound of horses whinnying. Looking in the direction of the sound they saw a British officer leading a group of redcoats.

“Shite,” Caleb swore.

“Hold the line,” the British Captain called out.

“Uh, about getting you back to camp…” Caleb trailed off as Selah cocked his gun.

“We know you're there,” the officer shouted. “We followed the report of your guns. This standoff must cease and desist by order of Major John Andre. Both parties must put aside their arms and come down!”

Looking at one another, the three slowly stood up and approached the British, keeping an eye on the rangers. The two parties faced one another as the Captain began, “The flag of truce is a symbol that must be treated with the highest honor and respect at all times, not the least of which during a sanctioned exchange of prisoners,” he eyed Robert Rogers.

“As representatives of His Excellency, General George Washington, we do concur and abide by this tradition,” Ben testified.

“That man is not who he pretends to be,” Rogers accused, pointing at Selah.

The mediator requested Selah’s papers while Ben and Rogers glared at one another. Looking them over he asked, “Are you, Samuel Tallmadge?”

“Yes, I am,” Selah lied in a convincing voice.

Affirming his false identity, Ben added, “This man is my older brother, Captain Samuel Tallmadge, imprisoned on _‘The Jersey’_ these past six months.”

“So confirmed,” the Captain returned the papers. “I place these three men under my protection, and you, Major, have orders to report to Major Andre at once.”

The two Majors looked at each other again.

“There is no place on this continent that you can hide from me,” Rogers vowed.

“Oh, I won't be hiding,” he said in a firm voice.

Turning to one of his rangers, they handed Rogers Ben’s Dragoon helmet. “Tallmadge,” he called, tossing the helmet. “One good hat deserves another,” he said, turning to leave.

* * *

Ben, Caleb, and Selah began their journey back to camp when they heard hoofbeats heading their way.

“Oh, what is it now?!” Caleb half complained.

“Come on, get off the road,” instructed Ben as he could make out a figure on horseback riding towards them.

Will saw three figures and slowed Gemma to a trot. “Major Tallmadge. Is that you?”

“William?” Ben said in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he approached the group.

“What are you doing all the way out here? I thought you were at headquarters?” The Intelligence Major started questioning.

“I was. When night fell and you still weren’t back after the rest of the exchange group had returned, I knew something went wrong. I found your horse not that far back, tied him up near a tree when I heard a gunshot. Figured you were in trouble.”

“We were,” Caleb chimed in. “But we had it handled.”

“I’m sure you did,” Will replied sarcastically, dismounting his horse.

“How did you find us,” Ben asked and the group continued to walk.

“Captain McHenry told me what happened, how Brewster went North through neutral territory. I looked at a map and saw that Elizabethtown was the most likely place he would go. I went through neutral land in hopes I would run into you.”

They walked until they reached the place Will tied up Ben’s horse. Mounting, Ben helped Selah climb behind him, while Caleb joined Will on his horse.

“Well, I’m glad yeh found us,” Caleb thanked. “Otherwise we would have to walk back to camp.”

William grinned back, “Glad to help.”

The rest of their journey was in silence. Will wondered what had happened, but figured it would be best to wait until they returned.

Once in camp, Caleb took Selah to another part of camp to work out him staying while Ben and Will went to go tie up their horses.

“That’s a beautiful horse you have,” Ben commented, walking up to the palomino mare.

“Her name is Gemma.” Will moved out of the way, allowing the Major to stroke her head.

“I want to thank you for coming out to help us,” he said.

“You would have done the same,” Will paused unsure of how to continue. “What happened out there?”

Ben hesitated for a moment, “Robert Rogers used an old friend of Samuel’s and mine, Selah Strong, to pose as Samuel. He used the promise of Samuel to set a trap for me.”

“Why?” Will was confused. Had Ben run into Rogers before?

He stopped petting Gemma. “Months ago my patrol was ambushed by Rogers, I was the only one who made it out. I killed one of his Rangers to escape and now he wants revenge.”

William already knew the answer but still had to ask, “And your brother?”

“Dead.” He shook his head, not wanting to discuss that matter further. Heading out towards the door. He had a report to get into Washington.

_♪ Why weep ye by the tide, lady?_

_Why weep ye by the tide?_

_I'll wed thee to my youngest son_

_And ye shall be his bride._

_And ye shall be his bride, lady,_

_So comely to be seen._

_But aye, she let the tears doon fall_

_For Jock O' Hazeldean. ♪_

Entering headquarters, panic flooded him when he saw his now clear desk. Rounding the corner he bumped into Tench Tilghman.

“Ah there you are, Major Tallmadge. I haven’t seen you all day, but somehow you managed to finish your report,” he said holding up the compiled papers.

“My report?”  
“Yes,” he then paused. “I apologize if it wasn’t complete. It appeared to be, and the general was asking for it-”

“-It’s alright,” Ben interrupted. “I understand why but…” he trailed off at the sound of the door opening. Turning his head he saw Captain Pickler enter the house, “...I just have to check something.”

“Of course. Just hand it in, to the general when you're done,” handing back over the report.

Ben flipped through the pages, seeing that they were all complete. Looking up to Pickler, who winked, he realized that the young man in front of him completed it.

_♪ Now let this willful' grief be done_

_And dry your cheek so pale._

_Young Frank is chief of Errington,_

_And lord o' Langleydale._

_His step is first in peaceful ha',_

_His sword in battle keen._

_But aye, she let the tears doon fall_

_For Jock O' Hazeldean. ♪_

“You finished it?” Ben was surprised. Will said he would cover for him, but he didn’t expect him to go as far as finishing his compiling and then go out and look for him. Ben simply thought that for how long he had been gone, the young Captain couldn’t keep the act up and went out to search.

“I had nothing better to do. Trust me, you can only translate a Prussian military guide for so long,” he joked. “Well I’ll let you go turn it in,” he smiled, exiting the house before Ben could say anything.

Ben wanted to chase after him, but knew that he first had to visit Washington first. After exchanging a few words with His Excellency, the Intelligence Major went outside and looked for any sign of his friend.

_♪ A chain o' gold ye shall not lack_

_Nor braid to bind your hair,_

_Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,_

_Nor palfrey fresh and fair._

_And ye, the foremost of them all_

_Shall ride our forest queen._

_But aye, she let the tears doon fall_

_For Jock O' Hazeldean. ♪_

“Well, where have you been,” called Hamilton, running up next to William.

“Let’s just say I was busy,” Will deflected.

“Really? With what?” he interrogated

“Nothing of importance.” Will tried to avoid the topic, not wanting to give details of the Major’s... situation.

“I don’t believe you. I couldn’t find you anywhere and none of the other aides knew where you or Tallmadge went.”

“Just let it go, for once Alex.”

The ginger raised an eyebrow.

Will caved, “Alright, I’ll tell you… _tomorrow_ ,” he compromised. “It really isn’t my place to say.”

“Fine.” Alex peered over Will’s shoulder, “huh, there’s our said Major now.”

Ben approached the two friends. “Colonel Hamilton, is it alright if I have a word with Captain Pickler?”

“Of course,” he replied. Turning to William he grinned, “You’ll have to tell me more of that story tomorrow,” and walked away.

“Will, I… thank you. For everything,” he said earnestly.

“It was nothing, really.”

“William, take credit for what you did. I honestly don’t know why you did it, you already have a huge workload for Sackett.”

“As I told you earlier,” Will slightly grinned, “One can read a Prussian military guide for so long.”

Silence fell between the duo.

“I am sorry about your brother.”

“Samuel knew the risks, and at least he had one familiar face by him when he passed.”

A now awkward silence fell.

“Well… uh I’ll see you tomorrow Pickler,” the Major patted the boy’s shoulder.

“Goodnight, Ben,” he slightly smiled.

“Goodnight, Will,” he echoed.

_♪ The kirk was decked at morning tide,_

_The tapers glimmered fair._

_The priest and bridegroom wait the bride_

_And dame and knight were there._

_They sought her in bower and ha',_

_The lady was not seen._

_For she's o'er the border and awa'_

_With Jock O' Hazeldean. ♪_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be trying to incorporate more songs into the story, especially the ones that are used in TURN. Some won’t make sense as to why I incorporated them now, but they will eventually. And I will be using the same song more than once (hint: chapters that have the same song are connected in some way, shape, or form) Jock O’Hazeldean was used in the episode, and I felt it worked. Because it is here that Ben and Gwen/Will really connect (and trust me the song will be used later)
> 
> So in my research, I was trying to get dates since the show doesn’t provide us with any. I found a preview of Alexander Hamilton: The Formative Years, and it was everything I needed. I found the information and it was sourced but when I went to the bibliography, of course, the one page that isn’t available is the one I need. So instead of cutting my losses, I spent an hour trying to get the book. The closest library that has it is 300+ miles away… yeah, no thanks. So for a hard copy, it was $78 on amazon, online (from google I think) it was $25. I have no money in my bank account currently but I managed to find a $10 amazon gift card and bought the kindle version. All this for one citation, and also the book is extremely detailed and informative so guess what I’m reading in quarantine.
> 
> So if you haven't already figured out TURN’s timeline is screwed up. I’m already tackling the messy Season 3 and 4 timelines. Literally, from a historical perspective, the show skips the year 1779. I can’t really do that. The newspaper (from the show) says Stony Point happened Dec. 12, 1778 (Anna leaves for New York and finds about Arnold’s treachery at the same time in the episode) Yet Arnold gets West Pointe in August 1780… and meets Andre in late September of the same year. So according to this logic, Anna spends over a year in New York. It’s messy, I understand it’s history adjacent, but this is some next-level stuff. Like why is Martha (in S4: E2) leaving headquarters IN OCTOBER! At this point, it starts messing with logic, she stays for the winter, not the fall. I was using research to put dates and locations to events since the show doesn’t always provide them… but everything is all over the place.
> 
> I will correct any historical inaccuracies that are made here. The Prussian military guide mentioned was published in 1788, after the Revolutionary War. I couldn’t find any books or guides before that so I got as close as I could. 


	8. Against Thy Neighbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA, I have air conditioning again! After 15 brutal days of at least 86 degree rooms or higher with humidity constantly around 60%, we have been saved. I live in Florida, so… it’s hot as hell in my room. The other day it was freaking 93 degrees upstairs.
> 
> On another happy note, I finished my Anthropology course and ended with a 91! WHOOHOO! Now I have nothing left to do for like two weeks besides some band rehearsals on Thursdays. So that means I have a whole lot of time to write, and I’ve gotten some new motivation to keep going.
> 
> I would like to thank two people: Abbikazoo on AO3, and MaddyStorger on Wattpad for leaving such kind words on my chapters. I truly does mean a lot to see that you enjoy them and is a huge motivation and confidence booster. So, please comment, vote, leave kudos, or whatever it is. (You know since I’m posting this on 4 different sites.)
> 
> Just to clarify. Dieterle sounds like DEE-Ter-LEE. I can see why a lot of people would mispronounce that, so I just wanted to fix that.
> 
> Published August 19, 2020

_Morristown Headquarters. February 17, 1777_

Will groggily entered headquarters, tired from the late-night search.

“Good morning Pickler,” came a cheeky voice. “Wide awake I see.”

The blonde rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Not funny Hamilton.”

“So are you going to tell me about your late-night excursion?” Alex questioned.

“Why are you so nosy?” Will shot back.

“Because my friend went missing for several hours. I know it has something to do with a prisoner exchange and Robert Rogers.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “Major Tallmadge’s brother, Samuel, was on an exchange list. Except it wasn’t his brother, it was someone named Selah who knew Samuel, who Rogers posed as his brother to exact revenge on the Major. A standoff broke out in neutral territory, when Ben didn’t return I decided to go looking for him. I ran into them on the road and returned to camp with them.”

“Oh,” was all Alexander could say.

“Don’t go telling this to other people, alright.”

“Relax, you know I can keep a secret. You wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.”

“Not if you keep talking like that,” Will warned.

Just as William spoke, Mr. Sackett walked into the hallway. “Ah, there you are. Captain Pickler, might I have a word.”

William breathed deeply and nodded. He gave Alex a nervous smile and followed the spymaster.

“First, congratulations. General Washington was impressed by your plan and is of the opinion that you continue working with Major Tallmadge and me for the foreseeable future,” Mr. Sackett announced.

The young Captain visibly relaxed.

Mr. Sackett continued, “however, I am slightly surprised you never told me about Mr. Mulligan.”

Will froze. “How did you-”

“The general told me yesterday,” he answered. “But I understand, he hasn’t procured any intelligence yet. I hope that once he does, he can work with our Mr. Culpepper.”

“Of course, sir,” Will answered, anxious to get out.

“While you are still here, is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

“Sir?”

“Are there any other secrets you are keeping from me?”

“No, sir,” the boy replied nervously.

Shaking his head, Sackett closed the door. Turning around, he confronted William, “Don’t lie to me. I heard you and Hamilton talking out there. How him keeping some secret is the reason you are here.”

William panicked. Sackett was putting the pieces together, damn Alexander for his nosiness. “It was a reference to when we stole cannons back in our college days. Had he told my parents that I was involved they would have had me return and ensure that I would stay,” he lied. There was some truth to the lie, he just hoped it would be enough to convince Sackett.

“No, it’s not that. William, if that even is your name, it is my job to uncover conspiracies and spies. And I can tell you, you are not who you say you are.”

The young Captain gulped, frantically thinking of how to get out.

“If you do not tell me, I will have to assume that you are a spy.”

“I am not a spy sir,” the blonde defended.

“Then who are you?” he interrogated.

Realizing that the only choice was to reveal herself, Lyn sighed, dropping the fake voice. “William Pickler is not my name. I made it up to disguise myself as a man and join the army.”

“You’re a woman?” Sackett had not predicted this.

Lyn nodded, “Are you going to turn me in?”  
Sackett avoided the question. “What is your name?”

“Lyn Dieterle,” she answered.

“You’re real name,” he pressed.

“I- I can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because it is risky to reveal it. Trust me, if you knew, you would agree.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“No- it’s-it’s not that.”

“I can help you prevent others from figuring you out. You have the potential to become a brilliant strategist, something our army lacks. But in order to do so, we need to trust one another.”

“I do trust you. And you can trust me!”

“Then tell me your name. Tell me and I will help you,” he compromised.

Lyn went silent, she debated whether or not to tell him. On one side, there would be help from a spymaster. As much as she trusted Alexander, Sackett could do much more to help hide her identity.

On the other, Sackett knows her real name. It’s one thing to hide a woman, it’s another to hide the daughter of the general. Who was to say that he would turn her in. But if she refused to tell him, he might do that very thing.

“Well?” he asked.

Gwen took a leap of faith. “Washington,” she whispered.

“What?” Mr. Sackett wasn’t sure if he heard her correctly. Why on earth would she bring up the general?

“Washington,” she said a little louder. “My name is Gwendolyn Washington.”

The spymaster blinked. In all his ideas on who William Pickler was the daughter of the general was not one of them. She was right, he understood why she was reluctant to give out her real name.

“Well,” he said. “This is quite the surprise.”

“Are you going to turn me in?” she asked again.

“No. I gave you my word that I would help you if you told me your name.”

Gwen let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

“I am assuming Colonel Hamilton knows. Is there anyone else?”

“Mulligan and Aaron Burr. They’re both good friends, I know they’ll stay quiet.”

“There’s some good news,” he stated. “I do believe I’ve kept you in here long enough. We don’t want to be drawing any suspicion do we, Captain Pickler?

Gwen smiled, “No, sir.”

* * *

_Morristown. February 19, 1777._

It had been two days since Mr. Sackett had discovered Gwen’s true identity. She wouldn’t lie, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Alexander was a great friend, and she trusted him with her life. But Mr. Sackett knew what he was doing, he knew how to help her, and most importantly he became somewhat of a mentor.

Walking into Sackett’s ‘office’ the two exchanged a friendly smile.

“Well, you seem better off than you did a week ago. Less nervous and jittery,” the spymaster observed.

“It’s because you give better counsel than Alexander. Don’t get me wrong he tries, but he doesn’t really have…” Gwen trailed off, trying to find the right word.

“Experience?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever had the pox?”Sackett suddenly asked.

“No, it’s not that common in the South.”

“I thought as much.” He paused, thinking of the best way to suggest this. “Have you thought about inoculation?”  
“Inoculation?” she questioned.

“Yes. I’m trusting you with this information, don’t go blabbing.”

“I won’t,” she sighed.

“Washington has begun a secret inoculation program for the troops camped here. And has ordered that all newly enlisted must endure the procedure if they have not already been infected. I recommend you go through with it today rather than waiting.”

Gwen pondered for a moment. Inoculation was risky, but she was going to get it sooner or later. Might as well get it over with and be back to working on intelligence before the next campaign begins.

“I’ll do it,” she answered.

“Well, then you better get yourself to the medical tent.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he huffed.”I can explain to Major Tallmadge where you are.”

She put her hands up in a sign of surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

* * *

Walking outside, Will started heading over to the medical tent.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” came Alexander’s voice.

Will shook his head and chuckled to himself. Why was he always running into Alexander? “Sackett told me to go to the medical tent.”

“For?”

“That I can’t tell you. I promised not to blab.”

Alex only gave him a look.

“I’m not caving this time. You’ll find out soon enough though.”

Alex decided to switch the topic. “You and Sackett seem to be on better terms. It was only a few days ago you were panicking about him discovering you, and now your almost completely calm about it.”

Will still hadn’t told his friend that Sackett knew, he wasn’t sure how on Earth to tell him. More than that, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Right now the only other person he could truly confide was the spymaster. And as much as a help Alexander had been in the past few months, Will needed someone else to talk to, as Gwen.

“Well,” he said, “I guess we’ve finally got rid of the misunderstandings between us.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“It’s water under the bridge. And before you ask, yes my identity is secure.”

Again, it wasn’t a complete lie. Will’s identity was secure with Sackett.

“If you say so,” he sounded unconvinced. “I have to go. Just... don’t die. Inoculations are dangerous.”

“Catching smallpox is far more deadly.” Realization then hit him and a surprised William cried, “Wait, you knew?”

“Of course I knew, why else would you be going to the medical tent? I’m practically already an aide-de-camp to Washington, it just hasn’t been official yet.”

Will gave his friend a playful shove. “I will never know how I put up with you.”

“Trust me, I’ve asked the same thing,” he called over his shoulder as he left.

* * *

Inhaling sharply, William bit his bottom lip from the three incisions on his left arm. He resisted the urge to look at the wounds and instead, observed the doctor. He regretted it immediately, cringing at the medic rubbing pox pustules onto a flat instrument. He squeezed his eyes shut as the instrument ran across the cuts and wished the procedure to be over.

His prayers were answered when the Doctor announced he was finished.

Wrapping bandages around William’s upper arm, the medic said, “not much else you can do besides resting. If all goes well you should be back to full health in a few weeks.”

The Captain nodded, rolling down his sleeve and reaching for his coat. He winced putting it on, despite his mindfulness of the fresh wounds.

It was sunset when Will left the medical tent. Knowing that there was no point in returning to headquarters, he instead made his way to his own tent. Thankfully, Mr. Sackett had convinced the General to let him have his own, arguing that a tent mate could stumble upon sensitive information.

Once inside, she dropped the act, exhausted from the day. Her first instinct was to collapse onto the bed, but the throbbing pain in her arm diverted her direction towards the small writing station.

She knew there was a chance she could die from the procedure, or be exposed and too sick to tell her father. If that were the case, she wanted to at least say goodbye to him. Penning a letter she wrote,

_Dearest Father,_

_There are so many things I wish to say to you, more than what I can fit in one letter._

_Please do not blame yourself. I want you to remember that it was my choice to run away, to join the army, to fight. Know that there was nothing more I wanted to do than to abandon the persona of William Pickler and reveal myself to you. I hope one day, my actions will make you proud to call me your daughter._

_With all my love to you and to mother,_

_Your Dear Cate._

She wouldn’t risk writing her real name. If someone accidentally found it, she didn’t want to give away her identity that easily. Her father and mother would know who it was from and that was all that mattered.

* * *

_Morristown. March 10, 1777._

Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton walked through camp, looking for his friend. Gwen was still recovering from the smallpox inoculation. Thankfully, the worst was over and she was lucky enough to only experience mild symptoms. A few poxes only appeared near the incision site and the final stages of the disease were almost over.

“And how’s the patient doing today?” he smirked, entering the tent.

“Keep talking like that, and you’ll be the patient very soon,” she shot back.

He walked over to the side of the bed, “Can I not visit a sick friend?”

“Funny enough, you’re the third person who stopped by today,” she reported, sitting up.

“Tallmadge and Sackett?” he guessed.

“No Washington and General Scott,” she replied sarcastically. “Yes, Tallmadge and Sackett! Who else would it be?”  
“You are highly combative,” he observed.

“I wouldn’t be as much if I could leave this tent and walk around,” she argued.

Alexander shook his head, “no, you need to rest. You’re still recovering.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing for three weeks. I feel fine,” Gwen protested,

“You’re fine when the doctor says your fine,” he retorted.

“Ugh,” she groaned.

“If you don’t rest, you could make it worse. You’ve been lucky with how mild your experience was. Please do not make me have to explain to your father how you became deathly sick.”

“First Sackett, then Ben, and now you,” Gwen muttered under her breath.

“Fine, if you won’t listen to me, listen to Sackett. Since you and he have completely turned around your relationship. I am still waiting for that explanation by the way,” he chided.

“I’ve already told you, we cleared up misunderstandings.”

“What misunderstandings could there have possibly been between you two?”

Gwen bit her lip, trying to decide the best way to tell him. “He… uh… knew William Pickler was an alias.”

Alexander’s eyes widened in realization. “He knows? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

“Here we go,” Gwen sighed. “I’m seventeen, Alex. I can make my own decisions, besides Sackett has been helping me.”

Alex stood up and ran his hand through his hair. He was at a loss for words. “You still could have told me.”

“How was I supposed to go about that?” She threw her hands in the air. “Oh, hey, Alexander. Did you know today Mr. Sackett confronted me about my identity, so I told him everything in an agreement that he would remain quiet?”

He turned and stared at her, “You’re sure he will?”

“Completely.”

Alex was still not entirely convinced, but it was Gwen’s secret and not his. Switching the topic he informed his friend, “I have heard that your mother is on traveling here.”

Gwen froze. There would be no way to avoid her mother at headquarters. It would be only a matter of time until her observant mother noticed the resemblence William Pickler had to her daughter.

Alex noticed her reaction. “I know this is concerning news and I can’t help you… but Mr. Sackett may be able to.”

“Sackett?” she questioned.

The lieutenant colonel nodded. “Once you fully recover, go to him. He’ll be able to figure something out.”

“I hope so.”

* * *

_Morristown. March 17, 1777._

After nearly a month of recovering, the doctor finally cleared Will to return to work. There was almost a slight bounce in his step now that he was free from the confinements of his tent. He headed to where Mr. Sackett and Ben were working.

Casually entering the room he saw the two preoccupied with a paper he could only assume was intelligence. Clearing his throat he said, “Whatcha doing?”

**(A.N. Did I just google to see if ‘whatcha’ was used back in the 1700s? Yes, yes I did. Was it used? Also yes.)**

Ben looked up, “Will!” he smiled. Putting down whatever he was working on to greet him. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better,” he turned to the older man in the room. “Mr. Sackett.”

“Captain Pickler,” he acknowledged. “I’m glad you could make it, we just received this from our Mr. Culpeper.” Handing over the piece of paper.

Will’s eyes scanned the page before looking up, “Is this…”

“The British cipher key?” Ben finished. “Yes.”

“Now all we need to do is decipher it.” continued Sackett. “I’m sure you won’t mind helping us in that task.”

“Not at all,” Will replied. “Anything is better than what I’ve done for the past month.”

* * *

Deciphering was easier said than done, the wearisome task dragged on for hours. Gwen put her head in her hands letting out a small sigh of frustration. Ben had left not that long ago to attend to the matters of his dragoons, leaving her and Sackett to continue making progress.

“Mr. Sackett,” she called.

“Hmm? Yes, what is it?” he huffed, not looking up from his work.

“I need your help.”

“Surely not with this,” he dismissed.

“No, with something else.” She had gained his attention and continued, “I was told that my mother will be arriving in camp sometime this month. She’s very… observant, and although I’ve been able to avoid detection from my father, I doubt I can with her.”

“Hmm…” he pondered. “I promise you I will try to think of something. Some way to get you out of camp. Until then, have confidence that your current appearance and character will be enough.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“By not giving her a reason to suspect you. Don’t try to avoid her, don’t change the way you act or speak. You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide, any odd behavior will give you away.”

“So I need to pretend as if I am actually William Pickler, not a woman in disguise.”

“Precisely. Now the question is, will you be able to do that?”

She sighed, “I have to. Because there is no other option.”

* * *

It was night when Ben had returned to deliver his report of their acquiring of the cipher.

“You can come with me,” Ben suggested to Will. “I’m sure Washington would be pleased to see you recovered and working.”

Will glimpsed at Mr. Sackett, who gave a subtle nod as if to say it was fine to go.

“Alright then,” he replied, handing over the partially completed cipher.

Making their way towards Washington’s office, Ben gave Will a small smile. “It’s good to have you back, things seemed… off without you.”

“Probably because there was no one giving Sackett a hard time,” he joked.

“Maybe.” Ben’s reply didn’t seem as lighthearted as he tried to make it sound. Something was bothering him. As they approached the door, Ben began shuffling the papers to make sure everything was in order.

“Sir, I just received…” Ben trailed off when he realized Washington wasn’t in the room.

Instead, Alexander stood hunched over a desk scribbling something onto a piece of parchment. “Major Tallmadge, please come in. I’ve been expecting you.”

William stepped out from behind Ben, “What? No hello for me?”

Alex grinned. “They said you were back. But I refused to believe it until I saw you.” He came over and patted Will’s shoulder, “let’s hope it remains that way.”

“It better. Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” Will playfully shot back.

Alex only shook his head and turned his attention towards the Major, who found their banter slightly amusing.

“I’m afraid we have never been properly introduced. But I’ve heard good things about you from William.”

“Captain Pickler has said the same about you. The General also speaks very highly of you and the stories of your valor at Trenton are widely known.”

“Well, it’s a shame you missed that battle Major, we could have used you in the field. From what I hear you missed the boat,” he teased.

“Alexander,” Will warned. He did not need two of his friends to get off on the wrong foot. Ben had no idea how to deal with the Lietenant Colonel’s snarkiness, he didn’t know how to respond of if he should at all.

“Relax Tallmadge, it’s all in good fun,” Alex smirked, ignoring Will’s exaggerated eye rolls and sighs. “Besides, you, William, and I know that our Victory at Trenton would never have been possible had it not been for your intelligence. It seems that you and your friends on Long Island accomplished a great deal.”

Ben was taken aback and looked towards Will for some kind of explanation.

The young Captain put his hands up in defense, “I didn’t tell him.” He then stared at Alexander, “It must be one of the many things he knows due to his new post.”

“It’s actually because I told Washington about our friend in the city who you helped recruit,” Hamilton corrected.

Ben finally spoke up, “you have a spy of your own in New York?”  
“You didn’t tell him,” said a surprised Alexander.

“I thought we agreed to wait until we got intelligence from him before telling people,” defended Will.

“Plans changed.” shrugged Hamilton.

“You could have at least warned me about that,” muttered Will, remembering Sackett’s confrontation about withholding information. The exact same confrontation that got him exposed.

“Well, Major. It was an honor meeting you. You can leave your report here, I’ll ensure General Washington receives it.”

Will had to lead a somewhat dazed Ben out of the room. He was still comprehending the entire encounter. He opened his mouth to speak, but only cocked his head like a confused beagle.

“It’s alright, he’s always like that. You’ll get used to it… eventually.”

* * *

_Morristown. March 23, 1777._

**(A.N. I’m going to use Gwen here because it hits better than William)**

Gwen perked up from the desk at the commotion outside. Curious, she entered the hallway to investigate. The majority of aides and other members of Washington’s staff clumped near the door and she could hear many hello’s and welcome’s. That’s when she caught sight of her.

Martha Washington.

 _‘Don’t change your behavior’_ she reminded herself.

Gwen stood next to Alexander, Sackett’s words echoed in her head. _Act as if I have nothing to hide._

The General was introducing his wife to the new aides that had joined since she had last been with him in Cambridge.

He approached the two former King’s College students.“My dear, I would like you to meet Lietenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton my most recent aide-de-camp, and Captain William Pickler a close friend of his who has joined Major Tallmadge in his department.”

Her mother gave a genuine smile, “Colonel, Captain.”

“Madam,” they both replied.

For only a few seconds Mrs. Washington glanced up and down at the Captain. It seemed like forever to Gwen, forcing herself to not look away. She could tell that her mother was making observations, and when her brown eyes stopped to stare at her blue-gray ones, she feared it was all over.

Instead, she replied, “Well, I hope my husband doesn’t work you too hard.”

Alex quickly took over, sensing Gwen’s discomfort. “We don’t mind work at all ma’am. We’re both accustomed to it.”

“Still, every man needs rest. Especially at such a harsh time of year.”

Gwen forced herself to speak up, as William Pickler would have, “thank you, ma’am.”

She nodded and followed the General, but not before taking a final glance at the blonde. Something about Captain Pickler seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

* * *

_Morristown Headquarters. March 30, 1777._

“The answer was here all the time. Sir, we merely needed the key,” Major Tallmadge reported.

“The cipher key, from Major Andre's own codebook no less. Courtesy of our friend in New York,” Mr. Sackett added.

“Mr. Culpeper does not shy away from the bold play,” General Washington complimented.

“And once Mr. Sackett deciphered it, we were able to apply it to the encrypted dispatches that we intercepted last month,” Ben continued.

"And immediately there fell from his eyes as it had been scales, and he received sight forthwith," the spymaster quoted.

“Mr. Sackett, it seems, has undergone a conversion to faith,” Washington observed, turning to Benjamin.

“Hmm, perhaps because, for the first time, we are able to see their movements as a deity might…” he said, gesturing to the map, “from on high.”

Putting down the encrypted papers, Ben moved a chess piece to demonstrate the enemy’s plans. “Sir, the enemy will try to take Philadelphia by sea, by the Delaware Bay.”

“All of our scouting reports argue that the attacks will come by land from the north,” the General countered.

“That's what they want you to think,” explained Mr. Sackett.

“It's a feint, sir,” Ben piped in. “The dispatches indicate that General Howe has ordered 3,000 men to be withdrawn from Cornwallis's troops,” he said, moving one of the red pieces, “and quietly marched to Staten Island, where the Royal Navy has secretly gathered over 100 boats for an expeditionary force.”

“The order reportedly left Cornwallis in high dudgeon, anxious as he was to personally thank you for disrupting a visit to his wife with that, uh, Trenton affair,” Mr. Sackett added as he and Ben followed Washington to the door.

“Major Tallmadge,” Washington ordered, “you are to ready a detachment to rendezvous with General Arnold in Connecticut, dragoons and militia, immediately.”

“North?” he questioned. “But, sir, we've just proven that the attack will be coming from...“

“From the south, which is why I will make plans to shore up our defenses on the Delaware if you agree,” he revealed, preparing to leave.

An idea popped into Mr. Sackett’s head. A solution for Gwen’s situation. “Sir,” he spoke up, “might I recommend Captain Pickler join the detachment. Field experience is important, one cannot rely on books alone. But I cannot teach him that here.”

“Very well,” the Commander-in-Chief nodded, “Major keep an eye on our young captain.”

“Of course sir.”

“Good, then unless you think it's wise to inform the enemy of our plan, perhaps you will join me in convincing them that their plan is working.”

Mr. Sackett smiled, “A counter-feint.”

Putting on his hat to leave, he informed the Major, “You have discretion to act as you see fit to advance the mission.”

Washington exited the building leaving the two spies at the door.

“I'll stay here,” came Mr. Sacket’s voice.

Ben turned around to ask, “Why have Captain Pickler join me?”

“I thought you two worked well together.”

“We do, I just don’t understand why. Surely he could learn just as well with the main army.”

“You don’t need to understand my reasons,” the spymaster huffed. “Trust me, this is in his best interest.”

* * *

“Captain Pickler.”

William turned about to see Ben walking towards him.

“What can I do for you Major?”

“It looks like you will be joining me on a mission,” he informed.

“Mission?” asked a puzzled William.

“Yes, we’ll be joining General Arnold in Connecticut. Mr. Sackett thought it would be in your best interest to join me.”

“My best interest,” Will replied skeptically.

Ben was equally confused at Sackett’s decision. “Yeah, he claims it’s for field experience.”

The captain only raised an eyebrow, trying to remain serious, but he couldn’t. He laughed as he shook his head, “I think he wants a break from us two ‘foolish’ officers.”

He could see the small smile that tugged on Ben’s face, but it quickly disappeared. It didn’t take much for Will to figure out that it had to do with Samuel.

“Well, be ready to leave in an hour,” Ben dismissed himself.

“Yes, sir,” Will replied. He let out a sigh of relief, Sackett had managed to get him out of camp.

For the past week, he did his best to avoid Mrs. Washington, a task more difficult than it appeared. She always checked in on every member of the staff at headquarters, ensuring that they were all in good spirits. On one hand, it was welcoming to have a sense of home in the dreary building. However, every time they met, Will was convinced that this meeting would be the one she figured it out.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Will could see the pain behind her eyes, and he was the cause of it. It was near torture to watch them both, knowing that he had to stay away if he wanted to remain.

* * *

Will mounted Gemma, packed and ready to go. He waited for Major Tallmadge to start their march to Connecticut when Alexander ran over to him.

“Alex? Do you need something?”

“Just… be careful, alright. This is your first mission without me.”

“Getting sentimental aren’t we, Will teased.

“No,” Alex denied. “It’s because no one else knows who you are. There’s no one to cover or look out for you.”

“Alex, I can handle myself. Besides, it’s only a rendezvous with General Arnold, not an actual battle.”

“Still, can you promise me to be careful.”

“Fine. I promise.”

Alex gave a slightly cheeky grin, “I’ll be holding you to that.”

The column was now marching forward, and Will nudged Gemma forward, leaving Alexander with his parting words, “of course you will.”

* * *

_Connecticut. April 2, 1777._

Three days of marching to Ridgefield. Although dull, William enjoyed being out of the winter encampment. He breathed in the cool spring air, admiring the hints of green returning with the new season.

He saw Caleb ride ahead to Major Tallmadge, who asked, “Fraternizing with the enlisted men?”

“Not sure he'd be so full of spunk if he knew his wife thinks him dead,” Caleb retorted.

If Will had to guess who they were talking about, it would be Selah. The Captain didn’t know the man well, the only time he had any interaction with him was back with the Rogers incident. His curiosity was now spiked and he continued to listen intently.

“I coulda sorted this out if your pal Sackett let me and Culpeper meet up instead of having him stash his letters in the hollow of an old tree,” Caleb argued.

It was no secret that the boatman disliked Sackett’s methods.

“Sackett's procedures are intended to keep you both safe,” Ben reminded. Ever since Samuel’s death, he was doing everything in his power to ensure the safety of his friends and family.

“But these are our friends we're lying to, Ben.”

“They're agents. They only know what they need to know. Any more could put them in danger.”

“Right, so Anna doesn't need to know her husband's still alive.”

“This isn't personal, Caleb. It's a discipline-- a craft, as Mr. Sackett calls it. The more we stick by the rules, the better it will be for all of us.” Ben rode ahead, leaving Caleb behind.

He turned his head to see Will’s confused face. “I’m assuming ya heard all that.”

Will nudged Gemma to walk right alongside Brewster. “I did.”

“And?”

Will bit his lip, thinking of how to best phrase his answer. “I understand he wants to keep them safe. But withholding that kind of information… it will do more harm than good.”

“I’m with ya there. I miss the good ole’ days when Benny Boy wasn’t as cautious.” Caleb mused.

“What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but he used to be a lot less serious. Cracking jokes and all that. All that changed after Long Island. Can’t blame him though, the loss of Sammy hit him hard, not to mention his friend Nathan as well. And now he has to go through it again.”

“Did you know Hale?”

“No, all I know is what Ben told me. But now,” he looked forward to the Major, “he refuses to talk about him.”

Caleb’s comment on how Ben never spoke about Hale confused him. WIll clearly remembered their first conversation and although they never explicitly said his name, He knew the friend Ben was referring to was Nathan. One question now plagued his mind.

Why did Ben mention his friend to someone he just met, but not to a close childhood friend?

* * *

It was well past noon when Will heard Caleb complain, “I can't feel my legs anymore. Let alone something else of equal importance. How much further to Ridgefield?”

“No more than a day,” Ben answered. “I sent a scout ahead to alert General Arnold of our arrival.”

“Oh, of course, you have,” Caleb let out a small laugh. “Now, look, don't be injured if Benedict Arnold ain't as excited to meet the famous Benny Boy Tallmadge.”

“I will admit, the man impresses. Imagine having your horse shot out from under you, your leg pinned beneath it, and instead of surrendering to the regular standing above you with a bayonet, you pull his pistol and shoot him dead.”

“I wish I could’ve seen it,” Will piped in.

Caleb looked back at Will, “Yeah, it sounds like a tale I'd tell about me self, which tells me he's taking a bit of license.”

Ben held up his hand to signal to stop. “Company, halt!” Three men road towards them, with one of them tied up. “Private.”

“Caught him hiding in a ditch,” the Private reported. “Thought he might be a spy, but when he said he was from Setauket…”

“Let him down,” Ben ordered, dismounting his horse and running towards the man. “Mr. Havens.”

“Ben,” Mr. Havens greeted before pulling the Major into a hug.

Caleb joined in it, clasping the newcomer on the shoulder. “Walt, look at you. How are ya?”

“What brings you to Connecticut?” Ben asked.

“A bloody-back named Simcoe,” said Havens. Ben and Caleb looked at one another, remembering their last encounter with the British Captain.

Havens continued his story. “Ever since he returned to Setauket, he's had it in for us Whigs. Your father's been arrested, Ben.”

“My father?” the Major said in disbelief.

“And Lucas Brewster, too.” Havens informed.

Caleb turned to Ben. “Your father, my uncle. That's quite the coincidence.”

Ben shook his head, not wanting to believe what he had heard. “On what grounds could he be arrested?”

“Conspiracy. I left town to cheat the hangman. I doubt the rest will be so lucky,” Havens solemnly admitted.

Ben gestured for Will to join him and Caleb. “How many whaleboats could you round up?”

“What do you mean? To carry all this lot?” asked Brewster.

“Aye,” said Ben, ready to explain himself to Will, but the Captain beat him to it.

“Washington gave you discretion to act as you see fit. Consider a small detour to Setauket part of the plan to advance the mission,” Will smirked.

Caleb patted the teenager’s back, “I knew I would like ya, kid.” He then turned to Ben, “So, are we going home?”

“We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, another chapter is done. In my opinion, not one of my best, but oh well. Historically the Battle of Setauket happened in August, but I decided to push it forward to April. I mean, Ben didn’t lead the attack either but this is one case of historical accuracy I’m willing to ignore. This way I don’t have huge time skips and make the story run smoother.
> 
> Boots back then would typically add one to two inches to a person’s height. That’s why Sackett said that Gwen’s uniform would help, at least for a bit. I see her being pretty tall, around 5’9 ish. One because her height will help in her disguise (it helped with Deborah Sampson) and two Washington was 6’2 (yes I know Martha was 5 feet but that’s not the point here). So with the boots, she’s 5’10-5’11.
> 
> As for accent wise, Gwen would have something similar to what George and Martha Washington had. Not really that traditional Southern accent. But as William, she uses it. Yes, I tried it and it’s actually convincing when you lower your voice.
> 
> I need to ask you guys a favor. Please leave song suggestions for me to use, preferably relevant time period folk songs. Modern versions (like from TURN) are totally ok. Personally, I prefer them, but any song will do. If you think a song should go with a specific point in the story (like at Valley Forge or reacting to Arnold’s betrayal) please tell me.
> 
> I have the skeleton of the next chapter down, expect that to drop this week. I will try to keep them no longer than a week apart, but the school year is incoming and I’m beginning to work on college applications.
> 
> Remember to please comment, vote, etc. 


	9. PSA About Today's Capitol Insurrection

January 6, 2021

While I won't be going into explicit details about today, I do mention and compare it to 1930/40's fascist Germany. Using the names of people and political parties of the time. I didn't know whether to add this, but it felt better to be safe and give a warning in case anyone is sensitive with the subject.

I know this isn't a chapter but I feel obligated to use my platform to spread this. 

What happened at the Capitol today, is nothing less than horrifying. I am turning 18 this year, and have NEVER felt as scared about our democracy as I was today. Trump's baseless claims about election fraud, to the point where he is telling his supports to protest the count, goes against every this county stands for.

I'm going to stop real quick and just say, if you disagree with this and believe a president trying to overturn election results is ok, then you should leave. Because my platform is NOT for you, this entire fic is about the creation of the current oldest democracy in history. Trump consistently abused power attacking the very foundation of how our democracy and Republic are built upon.

As an avid lover of history, especially about the American Revolution, seeing the original 13-star flag being waved along with the Trump flags sickened me. The founders NEVER would have supported this. While many associate Washington with establishing many of the precedents for American Presidents, like letting go of power. It was John Adams, who after losing his reelection in 1800 ACCEPTED the results and graciously stepped out of the way. A peaceful transition of power, like they intended. All one-term presidents have done this... that was until Trump. Today wasn't a protest or riot. It was an insurrection, a coup to undermine our government.

There is one quote that I have ALWAYS loved. History never repeats itself, but it always echoes. 

What is happening right now, with all the Trump supporters. It is an echo of Nazi Germany, Trump isn't a Republican he's an authoritarian. His use of popularism mimics the tactics Hitler used to gain power and influence. 

After watching the ball drop on New Year's, my mom and I watched the latest Borat movie. Note it is NOT suitable for children... so kiddos (like under 16) don't watch it. But basically, a man goes under the alias Borat and pretends to film a documentary. But in reality, he's recording actual people who have no idea that the film will go into a movie. In one scene Borat goes to a Unite the Right rally and sings a song and gets others to sing with him. Some of the lyrics are really disconcerting, but they went along with it. Trumpers are so enticed by Trump they believe anything he says. They are not patriots. They are no pro-America. They are pro-Trump as evidenced by the fact there were more MAGA/Trump flags than American ones.

Which brings me back to my original statement. Trump is a fascist, and to see this country come this close today should frighten everyone. There is no evidence of mass voter fraud. Joe Biden will be the next President, he had 7 million more votes! Hell, even Mitch McConnell said it, the voters have spoken and to overturn their vote undermines the very values of our Republic. 

There is so much more I want to say like where on Earth was the tear gas and rubber bullets? This was far more violent than like 99% of the BLM protests, but the cops were hesitant to get involved. The trumpers had GUNS and there was barely any tear gas. 

Thank god for the staffer who rescued the Electoral College ballots from the Senate floor before the chamber was breached. Trumpers would have surely burned them.

I wish that every single person there would be tried for sedition, but after what happened with the police, it never will. But the people who actually entered the Capitol, the people who were arrested inside NEED and DESERVE to be tried for sedition. 

As much as I dislike Pence and McConnell, I will say I have gained some respect for them. Pence is going completely against Trump, calling for an end to the violence when Trump wouldn't. And also refused to do anything with the electors besides reading and confirm the vote as president of the Senate. McConnell is trying to convince the rest of his party to stop trying to contest the results of the election. Trump calls Pence a coward for following his sword duty TO THE CONSTITUTION AND THE AMERICAN PUBLIC! And from what I've heard, there are death threats to Mike Pence for that. That is DEEPLY disturbing.

I'm getting a little off-topic here, but I predict that if something doesn't change, the Republican party is going to split. I have no problems with Republicans, I disagree but hold respect for them (such as Mitt Romney and McCain). But Trumpers? I have no respect or tolerance for them. I honestly believe the party will split between these two factions, what scares me is how there are enough extreme right-wing people to form their own party.

I cannot find the words to express how angry, disgusted, sickened, outraged, and a bit scared I am. America was designed to be a leader in democracy and today shows how easily it can fall apart when a populist individual essentially brainwashes his base.

But I do have hope. When the Civil War began, the stakes were much more than will the Union be preserved. At the time, Europe was beginning to transfer into more democratic forms of government instead of monarchies. They watched, waiting to see if a Republic/Democracy could actually work or if it would fall apart. The Union wasn't just at stake, it was the future of democracy. And because the North won, it proved to the rest of the world that democracies wouldn't fall apart. 

As I said before, history echoes. Today was another challenge, but I do believe at the end our Republic will remain standing. And future generations will learn from our past mistakes. Avoiding hyper nationalistic, populist individuals from gaining positions of power. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it wasn't a chapter, but I am working on finishing up Chapter 9. It is almost done and I hope to get it up by the end of the week. Thank you for reading and your patience.


	10. The Battle of Setauket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BAACCCKKKK! Did you miss me? Because I sure missed you.
> 
> Guess who just got their first college acceptance letter today AND got a superior on their solo! Perfectly timed to celebrate with a new chapter!
> 
> I am so sorry this took longer than expected, a lot of stuff has happened. Especially in the past four weeks. I have a longer explanation at the bottom but thank you for sticking around. It's not my best work. To be honest I hate my writing in this chapter but I forced myself to not get caught up in self-criticism and get it published because you guys deserve an update. I can't express enough how much I appreciate every single one of you.
> 
> So please, enjoy
> 
> Unfinished: October 9, 2020
> 
> Finished: February 19, 2021

_Setauket, April 3, 1777. Midnight_

Will threw a rope onto the beach and jumped off of the boat with another man. He took the time to stretch, having been stuck on the boat for several hours. How Brewster put up with this, he would never know. Pulling the rope, they secured the boat as the rest of the men climbed out onto the Long Island shore.

Unsure of what to do next, he approached the Setauket natives."Four out of seven ain't bad," he heard Caleb say to the Major.

"Do you think they got lost?" asked Will, looking out to the Sound.

The boatman turned around, "No, Selah knows his way. Could be they caught a swell up near Mastic and wound up there."

"Then we wait for them," Ben decided.

"Bullshit," protested Caleb, whipping back around. "You wait. I'm gonna get my uncle before they hang him."

"Nobody's getting hanged at midnight. We wait for the rest of the unit and then we take them by surprise, all of us," Ben reasoned. "My father's in that cellar, too, you know." Ben walked away, leaving an annoyed Caleb behind.

"Fine, we wait," he muttered under his breath, before joining the present unit in their wait.

* * *

Sitting against a tree, Will whittled a stick to pass the time - that's what he would claim at least. In reality, he was trying to distract himself from the turbulent thoughts. They were here to save Ben's father and Caleb's uncle. He had no objections in doing so, but the thought of family resurrected a feeling thought to be buried months ago. No word could come close to describing the feeling. The want to drop the identity of William Pickler and embrace them was stronger than ever and yet the young Captain couldn't even think of them as parents, fearing it would only make it worse.

Shaving off another strip of bark, he leaned back, looking at the night sky, and sighed. He wished to do something, anything, that could be a better distraction.

"You're not the patient type are yeah?" Caleb laughed.

"You could say that," he responded. Trying to make it seem as if he was suffering from boredom, "How much longer until sunrise?"

"Couple more hours."

Will let out another sigh and resumed the time passing activity. After a few strikes, the stick snapped and the blonde groaned, tossing the pieces onto the ground.

"What did that stick ever do to you," Brewster joked.

"It broke," was all Will said.

"I mean what did it do for you to break it."

"I thought it was the perfect carving stick," Will lightheartedly defended.

"Well, I don't know about you. But I think throwing that knife at a tree would be much more entertaining than what you were doing."

"Slight problem with that. I don't know how to throw a knife."

"Oh, I can fix that real quick. Not that different from throwing an axe. When we get back to camp, I'll show yeah."

"Let's just hope I'll have the time from Sackett."

"That man works you two too hard," Caleb grumbled. He rarely hid his distaste for the spymaster and his protocols.

"He's not that bad." Trust me, spend a little time with him and you'll find at times he's pretty enjoyable."

"I'll take ya word for it, Pickler."

He only hummed in response.

Caleb, eager to keep the conversation going, tried to switch the topic, "Say, I don't know much about you."

"I can't say the same about you," came the Captain's cheeky reply. "I hear things here and there. Not that hard to piece it together after that."

"Don't believe everything you hear... Actually, well..." he trailed off before clarifying, "Don't believe some of what you hear."

The response managed to get a small laugh from the teen. This could be the distraction he needed... if it weren't about his 'origins'.

"So, what should I know about the famous young William Pickler, huh?" His cheery voice contrasted with the dark, slightly cool environment.

"Not that much really. I'm from North Carolina, went to school in New York; that's where I met Hamilton. After war broke out and the college closed, I left home to go join him knowing my parents would never approve. I haven't had any contact with them since," he quickly summarized, trying to spend as little time dwelling on the subject.

Speaking about the origins of Pickler was as worse as thinking about the Washingtons. Especially at a time like this, where regret, guilt, and homesickness made their return to the runaway.

"I see," was Caleb's only response. The brief and direct explanation showed the signs of a sensitive topic. "Sorry."

Will realized his slight bluntness towards the Lieutenant and tried to resolve the miscommunication, "No, I just don't like talking about it, that's all."

"You don't need to explain yourself, Ben's like that too." Caleb paused for a moment before asking, "You have any brothers?

"One. Why?"

"Just curious. Older or younger?"

"Older," the teen responded, looking out towards The Sound.

_'Jacky.'_

When they were younger, the siblings would sneak out and run down to the shores of The Potomac. Splashing each other with water, skipping stones. They would play until either their mother or father realized where the pair had gone and drag them back inside. 

"You miss him," said Caleb when he noticed the Captain's distant face.

It wasn't a question.

"I miss everyone," corrected Will. "Sometimes I wonder... I wonder if I made the right decision."

"Would you rather be stuck at home than fighting?" asked Caleb.

"No... I just wish I didn't have to worry everyone back home."

* * *

Will squinted as the sun began rising over the trees. He moved from his position at the base of the tree and stretched his stiff limbs, following Brewster to Major Tallmadge.

"Sun's up."

"Not yet," Ben dismissed.

"Ben, the sun's up and we still outnumber Hewlett," Caleb argued. "Even with this lot."

Ben knew Caleb was right. He couldn't wait for Selah any longer, the hangings Walter Haven warned them about could happen soon.

"All right," he relented.

Just as he was about to give the order to march, one of the soldiers signaled that someone was approaching their position. Pulling out his spyglass, he observed the two figures near the coast. "That's William Blaine and his son Tom."

William noticed something in the corner of his eye and turned to look out over the Sound. He quickly tapped Ben's shoulder, "Uh, Major."

Diverting his attention in the direction Will pointed, Ben saw the rest of the boats they had been waiting for.

"Now they come," Caleb sighed in frustration, pulling out his axe.

Ben's eyes widened. "Caleb, he's only a boy. And those are fishing rods, not muskets."

"Getting soft, are we?" he asked, before moving forward.

"What? Caleb!" He considered tackling his friend to the ground, but he realized that doing so would only draw attention.

The next few seconds were a blur to Will. Shouting and gunshots filled his ears, as the boy, Tom, started riding away. Ben's shouting to hold their fire brought Will out of his trance.

"Parsons. Wait until they beach, then fall in," the Major ordered. "You take the north hill, we'll take the flank. We march!"

* * *

They were at the outskirts of the town. While the Major started giving out orders, the blonde took the time to admire the small fishing village. It was far more quiet compared to New York or Alexandria. And yet calmness was the best feature of the town. It echoed the atmosphere of Mount Vernon, right along the water's edge of the Potomac.

The thought of home brought back the sunken feeling, a reminder of what was left behind when forging this new identity. This path, this... life, it was a choice. At yet every so often the run-away still reflected on whether it was the right decision.

"Captain Picker," Ben said, driving him from his thoughts. "I want you to take half of the division into the town and secure any redcoats stationed there. We don't need them on our flank."

His order caught Will off guard. He could plan a raid, but leading troops, even if it was small, was something different. Alex handled all commands when they were both in his artillery company, Will solely followed orders. Yet at the same time, he was slightly grateful that there would be something that could get him to ignore... well whatever one would call said feeling.

The Major noticed the confusion on his face and explained, "Mr. Sackett claims you need field experience, might as well fulfill his wishes."

"I suppose so," he responded in a somewhat distant voice.

Tallmadge didn't fail to notice the change in the teenager's behavior. Ever since boarding the boats, he had been quiet, an uncharacteristic trait from what he observed in camp. The Major knew that he wasn't in the right headspace and decided to have him away from the more direct action early on. But now, he was reluctant to send William by himself. "I'm going to have Caleb go with you, he knows the area and can swiftly get control of the town."

This time the Captain only nodded but seemed to be more in tune with his surroundings. Whatever was on his mind, he would be able to push it away... for now.

* * *

The British soldiers, as well as most of the townspeople, were rounded up.

"Not bad Pickler," Caleb patted his shoulder.

Seeing Major Tallmadge, Caleb gestured for William to follow.

"The town's ours," the whaler reported.

Ben pulled them both aside, "They've taken the captives to the church."

"Shite."

Ben glanced at the surrounded civilians. "Search every door and get everyone inside the tavern. And remind the men that no private property is to be destroyed."

Before he could finish his sentence, a gunshot fired. Turning towards the sound, they saw Selah Strong, smoking musket in hand under a now shot tavern sign.

Will found the situation ironic. "So much for no destruction."

He watched Selah nearly run forward and embrace a startled woman.

 _'That must be our signal, Anna Strong,'_ he thought.

He observed the crowd, trying to deduce which one was Woodhull. One man stood out, he was glaring at Ben and Caleb. But instead of ignoring him, they both shifted uncomfortably, with Brewster shrugging his shoulders.

_'Making him Culpepper'_

* * *

Once everyone was inside the tavern, Ben pulled Will aside to scout out the enemy garrison. "What do you make of it?"

"Now that they know we're here, they most likely have the cannons prepared. Making another frontal assault impossible. Is there any way we can move behind him?"

"Maybe,'' he answered, pulling out his spyglass. "Selah knows the land better than I do. He may know a way to approach their position without giving away his movements."

Ben continued observing the fortifications before angrily bringing back down the instrument. Will opened his mouth to ask what he saw when Caleb found the pair.

"Oi," he called. "You're gonna love this. You know them bloody-backs used the church as stables? Well, they're using your old schoolhouse as a magazine. Two dozen barrels of powder."

He wasn't lying," Ben said, handing him the spyglass. "They ripped out the gravestones."

The captain's jaw slightly dropped. First at the acts of the quartered soldiers but then to the passivity of the townsfolk. They didn't seem bothered at all at the act of desecration. He couldn't even fathom how someone could be complacent in such an issue. Caleb took his own look at the British fortifications.

"Unholy bastards. Ah, here comes their leader."

Ben snatched the instrument back to see for himself. Looking back to his childhood friend he said, "smuggle out the powder and any other military stores you can find."

"All right," Caleb grinned, running towards the storehouse.

A few moments of silence lingered between the remaining two. Will's mind was already

"Wait, how much powder did Caleb say there was?" asked Will.

"Two dozen barrels, why?"

"If they have that much here, and they weren't expecting our attack..."

"... then they have a limited supply at the church," Ben realized.

"And considering they focussed on securing the prisoners and not the powder, I'm guessing it wouldn't be a lot. They'll want to conserve whatever they have left. Instead of one huge frontal assault, we can split up the force into smaller groups and trick them into firing."

Ben nodded in agreement, "now I understand why Hamilton recommended you."

"Anyone could have figured that out," Will brushed off. "You came to the same conclusion."

"Only after you pointed out the connection between the amount of powder and their reaction," he countered.

Will smirked, "I'm sure you would have figured it out eventually. And as much as I would like to continue this debate, we should get back to the matter at hand."

"Right. I'll inform Selah-" Ben stopped at the sound of cannon fire. "Get down!" he shouted, pushing Will down as he ducked.

No sooner had he said those words, an explosion knocked the two officers off their feet. Ben managed to get back up first, prepared to offer a hand to the other. Instead, he turned to see him quickly popping up behind him.

"Did they just fire on the storehouse?" he remarked in slight disbelief as they ran in the direction of the site.

Rounding the building that provided some cover, they saw what little remained of the structure in flames.

Ben glanced around, praying that nobody was in the vicinity of the explosion. "Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah," said Caleb, his face covered in soot. "We all got out of range."

Ben visibly relaxed and began giving out new orders, while Will's confusion as to why the residents tolerated the British.

"I thought that the kingsmen were supposed to protect the town, not level it," he remarked.

One would think Pickler. One would think," came Caleb's voice. "But these are people who use a church as a stables, who rip out gravestones, who take arms to suppress any potential retaliation and hang anyone who defies them."

The boatman was now fuming, angry at what had been done to his home. At what had happened to his family.

"And they just let it happen!" Will exclaimed, referring to the townspeople.

"If they don't, then it's prison or execution." he took a deep breath, "Come on, Ben needs us."

The two joined him, walking to where the residents were kept. Upon entering the tavern, one of the townspeople jumped up. "Hey! Will you burn your hometown now, Tallmadge?"

"We have everything under control," he said, trying to maintain a level of calm.

But the man continued his badgerings, "Ha, is that why the building's on fire?"

Agitated, Will jumped at the chance to speak his mind, "Technically it isn't on fire. You're high and mighty protectors blew it up."

He would be lying if he said he was trying to keep civility. Caleb's explanation of remaining submissive was one thing, but to antagonize the ones fighting _their_ oppressors was entirely different.

Ben, however, quickly stepped in. "Enough!" he ordered, eyeing at the Captain before turning his attention to the man, "It's the king's men who are burning it." There was a slight edge in his voice. It was obvious enough that he too shared some disdain towards the heckler. Trying again to keep the peace, he addressed the tavern, "But take heart, we'll have them out soon enough."

But while Ben made his plea, Selah pulled out his bayonet and marched towards the man, holding the blade to his throat.

"Why don't you hold your tongue, Robeson? Before you lose it?"

"Selah," Ben called.

His friend reluctantly pulled away.

"Hewlett has us at range. We can't hope to hit him from here," whispered Ben. "Now, Captain Pickler has proposed an idea but I need you to put pressure on his flank."

"We can move up the ridge to conceal our approach. That's even higher ground than his church."

"Our church," he corrected. "Let's take it back, hmm?"

Will walked over towards the door, leaning on one of the posts opposite of it. His eyes followed Selah and the men accompanying him to the church as they left. But instead of diverting his attention, he kept staring through the doorway, at the water.

He was tired, repeatedly resisting the urge to close his eyes. The few minutes of sleep he did get coupled with the adrenaline boost only kept him awake and sharp-minded until now.

He wondered how Caleb and Ben were managing to remain fully alert, especially during their wait. Then he remembered, their family was still in danger.

The exhaustion was finally catching up to his mind. Everything had slowed, he could no longer keep his mind sharp and clear.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Woodhull stand from the crowd. Only hearing him say, "Benjamin," before tuning out the conversation.

He was too tired to focus and resumed absently staring out to the water. Thoughts freely flowing through his head... many of them being about home. As the minutes and thoughts passed by, he barely noticed his eyes closing.

* * *

A distant, yet loud enough sound woke the dozed Captain. Rubbing his eyes, it took only a few moments before everything clicked. He couldn't believe he allowed himself to fall asleep in the middle of a raid. How long had he been like this? But after scanning the tavern, it seemed that no one had noticed.

Completely unaware of what caused him to wake, he didn't think much of it when one of Selah's men ran into the tavern. His curiosity was slightly irked, but he uncharacteristically decided not to pursue it, still not yet fully awake.

It all changed when Ben slammed his ale on the table, startling Will once again. "Damn it!" He shouted. "What kind of a commander uses prisoners as a barricade?"

Will walked over to where Ben and Caleb stood as Woodhull spoke up. "It's likely Captain Simcoe. You may not know of him, but he's less subtle than the major."

"They mean to hold out until reinforcements arrive," Ben told the two.

"I figure we got till sundown to break them," said Caleb.

"If that. You need to take another detachment and round on them from the east. Then I'll send forth terms for surrender. If we take the church, then we can use their cannons to defend against the next wave."

"Hewlett will never surrender to you!" snapped Woodhull. "And Simcoe will shoot down any Continental who approaches the church and then he will kill your father and your uncle!"

"Well, maybe we'll use his men to shield us," Caleb said, marching over to the captured redcoats.

For his tired mind, the events around him still blurred together. But Will still managed to put enough together as he became more alert.

Gasps came from the crowd as Caleb drew his pistol and aimed it at one of the British soldiers.

Someone, it sounded like their signal, shouted at him to the soldier be.

But Will could never have prepared himself for what the redcoat said next.

"The major is a fair man. He will respect a flag of truce."

For a second he wasn't sure if he had heard him right. A British officer, on Long Island of all places, was a fair man? 

In his head, he laughed in disbelief. 

Where was the fairness when all those who objected were hung? To the captives who were used as shields?

Where was the fairness to all of the American prisoners captured on Long Island? Prisoners like Ben's brother. 

Where was the fairness to those arrested in New York after the British took it over? People like Hercules. 

He had a hard time believing that any person who fought for the king was fair or honorable. He couldn't. Washington at one point feared the British would send ships up the Potomac to bombard Patriot homes. 

No. The British weren't honorable. They were fighting for a king who executes every man who dared stand against him. 

His eyes snapped up when Caleb pulled Woodhull forward.

The woman next to him, most likely his wife, protested.

"Don't worry, ma'am," said Caleb. "We need your husband to send a message. We're not gonna hurt him." At those words, he punched Culpepper, obviously some form of act to get the members of the ring together. "Not much anyways."

"Mrs. Strong, would you kindly open the cellar for us?" Ben instructed, following Caleb's act. "Pickler, you're with me," 

* * *

Descending into the cellar, Caleb let go of his friend, only for him to turn and pin him against one of the wooden posts.

"Easy, easy, easy!," Caleb chided before laughing, "Just keeping up the ruse, Woody, all right?"

"Ben, what the hell is this?" Woodhull yelled as the Major ushed Will in before closing the door.

"Shh, you want them to hear us up there," their signal warned, walking over to lock the cellar door.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I couldn't send warning. There was no time. It was only by God's good grace that we came across Walter Havens. He told us about the hangings," Ben explained to the pacing man.

He turned on his heel at those words. "There were no hangings."

"What?"

"Not till you showed up," he seethed. "I had convinced Hewlett to commute their sentences. They were bound instead for _'The Jersey'_ ," turning once again to continue pacing.

"Oh, _'The Jersey'_ ," piped Caleb. "'Cause that ain't a death sentence, is it?"

"Apparently, it's not," all attention turned to Anna Strong. "I stood on the deck of that ship and had the warden tell me that Selah died there over Christmas. I have lived with that belief since last we were in New York spying for you. Surely you had time enough to warn me that my husband was alive and serving alongside you both."

Will stood silently, watching the interactions between the other members of the ring. He had no idea what to do except to remain silent. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how... it wasn't his place.

"Look..." Ben blinked away the rising tears. "Anna, I'm sorry. It was my decision. Caleb wanted to tell you but I said no. The truth is, your husband is alive because my brother is dead."

Will tilted his head, Ben's eyes were glassy. The two briefly made eye-contact, remembering their conversation after the run-in with Rogers, before Ben broke it to continue, "Robert Rogers used the promise of Samuel as bait to trap me."

Silence fell in the cellar. While the others glanced at each other, saddened by the news, the withdrawn soldier thought of Jacky. Unable to imagine losing him the way Ben lost Samuel.

_Jacky_

Gwen didn't know how long she could keep going on like this. Of all the days to fight this battle again, why did it have to be today? The previous ones were hard enough to deal with, but this was nothing compared to the others.

She didn't know what to do anymore.

Jacky would have known, he always did. He had always been there. He came home when his family needed him most. And what did she do?

She left them.

She didn't even write him a note before leaving!

The guilt, the pain... everything she had been feeling found the cracks in the wall. She felt sick. The knot in her stomach from the guilt. The sudden heat rising to her head from the shame.

She wanted to break down right then and there. Let out everything she bottled up and hid away in the past nine months.

The single thread that kept her from doing so was that her friends still needed her.

~~~~

Although his mind had frozen, Will still picked up bits and pieces of the conversation. But nothing came with what he heard until he felt someone shake his arm. The fog slowly lifted, his senses sharpening, and now meeting the concerned gaze of his friend did the urgency of their situation snap his mind back.

He heard Caleb and turned to face him. "We ain't leavin' without our family, all right?"

"Well, then I guess today you take your orders from me. I go up under flag of truce with your terms." Woodhull paused staring at Ben, "They release the prisoners for yours and then _you_ leave Setauket."

Ben turned his attention from the Captain and nodded.

Satisfied, the former agent began heading for the door, the others following in tow.

"Wait."

They all turned, surprised to find it was Will who spoke up.

"Won't it seem suspicious to send a civilian with terms of surrender," he questioned. "Especially one who was friends with you two. Even if his father's there as well... it doesn't look good."

"Did you not hear me say that Simcoe will shoot down any continental who approaches the church," Woodhull countered.

"Alone, yes. But if a continental where to go with you under the flag of truce... It would keep up the appearance that you have nothing to do with us." He looked towards Ben, hoping he would agree

"He has a point. If a continental is with you under flag of truce we keep both parties safe," Ben answered nodding back to Will.

"So who's it going to be?" Woodhull, still skeptical, pointed at Ben, "You?" and then to Caleb, "Him? Because if I recall correctly, you two failed at getting rid of Simcoe. If you come up with me then it's all over."

Will spoke before anyone else could break the silence. 

"That's why I'm going."

All eyes again went to the boy in surprise.

Ben jumped to protest before anyone else. "Will, no."

"It has to be someone in this room and I'm the only one who's not from this town. It has to be me," his eyes now pleading to the Major.

Ben shook his head, "There has to be another way-"

Will cut him off. "There isn't. Who else would you recommend?"

Nobody said a word. Even if they didn't agree with it, they knew that he was right. Ben nodded to the spy.

"Fine," said Woodhull. "He comes with me." 

The members of the ring began exiting the cellar, all but Ben and Will.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, pulling the young Captain aside.

Will nodded, "I can handle myself."

He had something new to focus on, something that would distract him from the thoughts of home.

* * *

Will kept his eyes forward, to the church turned garrison. 

As they walked closer, Woodhull whispered to him, "Let me do the talking. I know how to approach them, you're here only for appearance's sake."

"I'm well aware, considering I'm the one who thought of it," Will reminded, matching the older man's tone. 

He knew whatever resentment was in the statement wasn't directed at him. But he was too tired, and frankly didn't care enough to filter his words.

He laughed to himself,

_Just like Alex._

Oh, he could already see the lecture Alex had in store when they returned. A simple rendezvous turned into a battle, not like he had any control over that... But he didn't really discourage it either. It didn't matter, Alex would find a way to hold him accountable.

And then there was volunteering to enter enemy territory. It wasn't exactly the definition of "be careful." But at the same time, Alex wasn't here. He couldn't have possibly known the situation they were in. Let him give his lecture that mirrored that of an overprotective brother.

_Brother..._

Thankfully, before he became trapped by his own thoughts again, they had made it to the church. 

He felt the glare of every redcoat as they let the duo past, but none compared to the one inside the church. Wearing a captain's epaulet, it didn't take much to conclude that he was the dreaded Captain Simcoe.

The Major next to him spoke. "Abraham, it is good to see you unharmed." He then shifted his gaze to the boy next to him. "Why did they send you along with Captain...?"

Will was about to answer but Woodhull spoke first. "Pickler? Because they believed that I could appeal to you, but wanted to be certain that their side was represented." As he finished his explanation, he stared at the young officer that accompanied him. 

Will knew what it meant. Culper wanted him to stay silent. Although annoyed, he bit the inside of his cheek and complied. 

He let the conversation take its course, letting his frustration out in his mind.

_Oh don't worry, there's absolutely nothing suspicious about me standing here... silent. Not even allowing me to even introduce myself, but apparently, he knows best._

"What are their numbers?"

"They are more than fifty less than a hundred."

_And now I'm just allowing him to tell the enemy that information. I guess there's nothing suspicious for a Captain to not intervene here and say 'that we outnumber you'._

"I knew their numbers were exaggerated."

"They still outnumber us, and they have our flank"

"So you mean to surrender"

"No"

"They don't request..."

_Ah yes, and now you tell them the terms. Not to worry, apparently, my plan was for me to be silent while you took the lead._

"Good because I'd hate you to become the first commander to let the patriots get a foothold on Long Island."

"They don't ask for surrender, sir. They... they know that you will never bow."

"Abraham, what are their terms?"

"Tallmadge says that he will trade the soldiers that he has in his custody for the prisoners here in the church. And that he will then order a withdrawal, sir."

"Eight civilians in exchange for conceding the field? When they have the numbers? I can't decide whether they think themselves cowards or us fools."

"If further harm comes to any of the prisoners here, sir, he will retaliate in kind, and I am concerned for my family and the other Loyalist captives down there."

"Your concern is none of our concern."

_And yet the people here still tolerate you. Aren't you supposed to protect the town and therefore the people in it? Their concerns should be yours._

"Enough! You make it so I cannot hear myself think."

"Major, you said yourself these men are like a gangrenous limb, a sickness that needs to be bled from this town. This is our chance."

One of the captives spoke up, "A sickness? What do you know of sickness, Woodhull?"

"Quiet, Lucas, if you know what's good for you."

Major Hewlett looked to William, "And this Major Tallmadge, he has given his word that he will withdraw following the exchange?"

Before Will could respond, he was interrupted again. This time by Simcoe's outburst, "The word of a traitor means nothing. These are hardened criminals. If we just let them go, we're only adding to the ranks of the Continental Army!"

"Captain, you will keep your opinion to yourself when it is required," Hewlett reprimanded before once again looking at Will.

"He will, sir." He smiled internally, finally able to say something.

The Major contemplated the offer for a moment. "Do it."

But Simcoe refused to stand down, "To yield is to show weakness."

"I will yield nothing that I do not wish to yield, I'm trying to save the town!"

"Then kill the enemy!" Simcoe's declaration caught the attention of every man in the room. "Force them to charge the barricade! Give them cannon and musket full-on!" He strode over, to one of the captives, pushing Woodhull aside in the process. "All they require is proper motivation!"

"Captain, bring him back at once!"

Will didn't think when he took a step forward. To hell with the plan, if the redcoats wouldn't stop Simcoe, then he would. 

He took another. Would he pull Simcoe back from the door? Or would he block his path?

It didn't matter. Before he reached a third step, Woodhull gripped his shoulder firmly and pulled him back. Whipping around, he met the older man's harsh gaze. 

Nothing stopped the crazed Captain from leading Caleb's uncle out of the church. Simcoe paused outside, in view of Ben and Caleb, and raised the pistol.

And fired.

For a moment everything seemed to slow. Both spies froze where they stood. 

Now Will understood why Simcoe was described as a madman. Simcoe's war cry sent a chill down his spine.

He could hear Caleb's anguished cry before it was drowned out by gunfire from Selah's regiment.

Simcoe had now marched over to the Reverend. "Eastin, your pistol, please."

Will immediately moved his hand to his sword, prepared to draw it if the madman tried to repeat his actions. He didn't care that Woodhull sent him another warning glare or that the guards nearby caught on and did the same with their bayonets. This was Ben's father. His friend had already lost two people to the war within the past _year_. He couldn't lose a third.

But Major Hewlett beat him to it. "Belay that, arrest Captain Simcoe," pulling out his own pistol when the regular next to him didn't move. "Now!"

As ordered, three regulars tackled a thrashing Simcoe to the ground.

"You deserve what's coming to you, Oyster Major," he laughed as the Major prepared a gag. "That's what they call you, you know. Commander of the army's backwater-bred..." his taunts turned into muffled sounds.

Will, though still on edge, moved his hand away from the hilt and looked to Hewlett.

"Prepare the cannon to repel a charge." The man gave him a sincere apologetic look, "I'm sorry Captain, but we're in a fight to the death now. If you wish to return, do it now, while you still can. But I swear no harm will come to you from any of my men."

Hewlett's offer was nothing less than surprising to Will. He could have used him as some sort of leverage to stall the attack. The regular from the tavern was right, Hewlett was a man of honor. 

Will had to do something to help, it was only right and fair. "Major, there is still a chance. I can talk to Major Tallmadge, explain that you had agreed to his terms. I am sure he will at the very least consider it"

"I appreciate your offer, but I'm afraid you Major's terms were quite clear. Harm to any prisoners would result in retaliation."

"Not if you let them go," said the Magistrate. "The prisoners, now. All of them."

"I'm quite sure an exchange is off the table, Richard."

"No exchange... a release, unconditional and immediate," he reasoned. "And the good reverend will convince his son to withdraw. I'm sure Captain Pickler will also be willing to do the same."

Will only nodded in agreement and their attention turned towards Ben's father.

"I see no honor in this fight going on," he said. "Only further bloodshed." He looked to the Magistrate, who coughed from his gunshot wound. "I'll have you know, it wasn't me who took that shot at you."

* * *

Woodhull exited the church first, the captives followed close behind. But Will wasn't as quick to leave. He glanced over his shoulder at the doorway, to Major Hewlett. Despite being on oposing sides, the Major had been fair and reasonable during the entire exchange. 

As he began to follow the rest, the Major called out to him. "Captain Pickler."

Will turned to fully face the British officer.

"Please express my sympathies and my deepest apologies to Major Tallmadge. I assure you Captain Simcoe will be dealt with properly." He then held out his hand.

Will, already stunned by the Major's words, didn't know what to do. His eyes glanced between the offered gesture and the Major. 

Hesitantly, he shook it. "I will, sir."

With one last glance back, Will left the church to join the rest of the regiment. Caleb, with the help of the Reverend, was carrying his uncle's body back to the boats. He felt a slight pang in his chest, wondering if they could have done something differently to prevent it. If he had done something. 

He was now face to face with Ben, who put a hand on his shoulder.

Knowing what he was going to ask, Will quickly answered, "I'm fine... let's go."

Ben nodded. He looked up to the church, where Hewlett stood at the doorway. The two Majors acknowledged each other, both slightly bowing. 

"What happened?" Ben asked as the two walked back towards the town.

Will choose his words carefully. "Simcoe. Hewlett agreed to the terms but Simcoe made his opposition very clear. The Major ordered him to bring him back... " he paused for a moment, the memory still fresh. "When he came back Hewlett had him arrested."

Will purposely left out that it was Ben's father who Simcoe targeted next. Maybe he should have told him, but Ben was already worried enough when his father was trapped in the church. But even more so, Will didn't want to think about what happened, not yet at least. For now, he would only report the bare minimum.

* * *

Now back in the town, Major Tallmadge started ordering the withdrawal as agreed. "Grab your haversacks and head for the boats." 

Will saw Ben call Woodhull over, most likely to discuss the future of the ring. He sighed, beginning the trek to the shore in silence. With the raid now over, all he could think about was the next opportunity to rest. 

It took about a half-hour for the entire regiment to begin loading onto the boats. Ben began walking over to join when his father pulled him aside. 

Will slightly smiled at the interaction, glad to know their mission still saved some lives. The slight pang returned again when he saw Caleb gently loading his uncle's body onto the boat. Will saw that Ben was looking there a well with a sadness in his eyes. Will wasn't surprised if someone else had told him the exact details, of what could have happened. 

Ben boarded the boat. "Ready to go?"

Will only nodded, flashing a small smile. One his friend quickly returned

* * *

**Sorry for the long A.N. below, you can skip reading it, it wouldn't fit in the end notes box. I just wanted to give you guys an explanation for my absence.**

**Shortly after uploading chapter 8, my mom was in a car crash. Everyone was ok but it threw a lot of stuff and schedules around. Then school started and while things started off fine I'm still not that good with virtual learning. At one point I thought I was going to fail my economics class. I still go to my high school for band... and a few days after posting the unfinished version of this chapter (October) my band director was taken out by administration IN THE MIDDLE OF JAZZ BAND. He was put on paid administrative leave. The leading rumor was that a former student who quit emailed him saying they were suicidal (the person in question is ok) and that he never reported it. It was a stressful time for him with people leaving left and right because of COVID, we totally saw him not reading the email as a plausible cause. We kept continuing doing band because we were (and still are) not going to let this year be taken away from us more than it already has. Around November the sheriff's investigation finished and we just had to wait for the school board to make a decision. Late December a local newspaper revealed what he did, but that the sheriff's office found nothing criminal. So we (some of us) thought something had been taken out of context.**

**To let you guys know, we were at Indianapolis Music for All festival when everything shut down in March (It's one of the largest festivals in the country and our band was invited, it was a huge deal) The night before we were supposed to perform (the day was bumped up due to so many bands not able to come) we were told we couldn't. We later found out our director wanted to use the recording from Indianapolis to apply for the Midwest clinic (this is the largest and most prestigious event in band) Everyone on that trip got really close after all that, and many of us, myself included, formed a really strong bond with our director.**

**But four weeks ago... the sheriff's report came out. I'm not going to go into details because the victim, who is a friend of mine, deserves their privacy and shouldn't have their story all over the internet. But it was bad. My mom didn't want me to read it at first, but she eventually let me and that's when I found out who it was. Before then I had accepted what happened and decided to put it behind and keep going (part of it could have been denial). I honestly can't put how I feel into words, but betrayal and anger are at the top. I looked up to my director, we all did. We defended him, this is the last person we expected to do this.**

**I'm still hurt that he did that. He knew EXACTLY where the line was between what was criminal and what wasn't. And he went right up to that line. He finally resigned three weeks ago, the school board couldn't fire him because the teacher's union challenged the case I'm still having this internal conflict, I can't respect him anymore but at the same time, he was a mentor. And it's hard, for me at least, to see a mentor in a negative way. But, the person who brought this forward was ABSOLUTELY in the right. They were afraid they would "ruin band for everyone". They were brave and to see them continue to help lead the band program doubles my respect for them. To anyone who finds themself in any sort of situation where a mentor or teacher is making you uncomfortable, DO NOT hesitate to come forward. It's never easy, but you will be preventing that person from doing it again to others.**

**So all that stuff going on has thrown stuff all over the place. Add in a bunch of writer's block and I kept hitting a wall.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After several months, it's done. I can't tell you how amazing it feels to finally get this out, to get over the writer's block
> 
> To explain Will/Gwen's perspective on the townspeople. She's never lived in a British-occupied city/area. All she knows from what she's experienced with patriots compared to what she's seen the British do. Both sides have positives and negatives but she's only seen one side of each party. She doesn't understand that the best way for the people in Setauket might be just to keep their heads down, stay out of trouble, and hope it goes away. Her time in New York formed her opinions of needing to always speak out and take action, to the point of where she runs away from home to fight. That's the other reason why she doesn't get the inactiveness of the citizens, she's given up so much (where we see its toll taking place with the mental breaks) and doesn't get why others can't/won't do the same
> 
> I don't know when I'll have the next chapter published... I have the general outline but nothing has been written. You can follow my Tumblr, OllieOliveOboelo22, for more updates on chapter progress and what's going on in my life that might affect it.


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